


Speechless

by 54DaysorMore



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: A little, Alcohol, Angst, CEO, CEO Kim Seokjin | Jin, College, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jeon Jungkook Is Bad at Feelings, Jeon Jungkook is a Little Shit, Kim Seokjin | Jin & Kim Taehyung | V Are Related, Kim Seokjin | Jin & Kim Taehyung | V Are Siblings, Lapdance, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Park Jimin Is a Good Friend, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Psychological Trauma, Seventeen members are side/minor characters, Smut, Sort Of, Speech Disorders, Sugar Daddy, University, Verbal Abuse, because he always is in my stories, but not very descriptive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 103,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/54DaysorMore/pseuds/54DaysorMore
Summary: “Oh?  She say anything yet?” Yoongi says, and Seokjin frowns.  “Jimin thought it was all an act, playing some innocent girl.  Kookie seemed to think otherwise, said something about Nestor mentioning she can’t talk.”“She can’t,” Seokjin says.  “She can’t talk at all.”“Oh,” Yoongi says on the other end.  “Jimin’s going to feel like such an ass.”There's something about you that catches Kim Seokjin's eye in the club he frequents, but it isn't anything you say.





	1. Unfair

**Author's Note:**

> It’s another story!! I have a problem. Okay, so, a couple of things:
> 
> 1\. I thought of this story while I was sick three weeks ago. I’m not sure where it’s headed, but I had a few scenes replaying in my mind a lot of nights.
> 
> 2\. It’s angsty and a little dark. Please always read the warnings. If you’ve read my stuff before, you know I never get super descriptive. Still.
> 
> 3\. Headed back to Present Tense, which means my tenses will get messed up some. Oops. Sorry in advance.
> 
> 4\. Another reader insert, and so far Y/N is short because I’m short and I love short girls, oops again. There will be a couple of times that the story is told from someone else’s perspective (mostly Jungkook’s), though it will never be 1st person. And it will progress more and more to Y/N’s perspective as we go.
> 
> 5\. Seokjin and Taehyung are brothers in this fic.
> 
> 6\. It’s a Jungkook central fic, but also Seokjin! Because yay, what an interesting combo!
> 
> 7\. I stink at summaries. Will change it later.
> 
> 8\. This is the experimental chapter. If I like it, if you like it, etc., I’ll carry on. So let me know what you think :) I hope some things are clear but not too obvious, if you know what I mean. Maybe you’ll figure stuff out before I reveal it. You’re smart. Thanks, as always, for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks. Mention of suicide (but it’s a metaphor, it’s about a mushroom falling off a pizza, so.)

           It is unfair, really.  That’s all he was thinking as he sits nursing a drink next to Taehyung.  The older boy has a leg thrown over Jungkook’s lap.  It’s been an unfair couple of weeks, the scar on his cheek forever a reminder of the narrow escape he had.  He’s been finding himself tracing his finger over it absentmindedly at unexpected times.  When he’s eating.  As he lies in bed at night.  Now, while his eyes glance around the room, searching for something in the dark.  

           He knows it’s immature to think so, but the world is unfair.  A shit pile. He shouldn’t complain so much.  He’s got it easy.  Seokjin’s been good to him for the past two years.  He’s lucky to know and work for him.  He knows that’s the truth, but some days he just wants to whine and complain.  Sometimes there’s no reason he can think of to explain why he feels the way he does, not that anyone’s ever asked him.  He just wants to sulk sometimes.  Jimin says it’s because he was forced to grow up too soon, wasn’t able to learn how to be a child before he became an adult in responsibility but not age.  But Jimin thinks he knows everything about everyone. Sometimes Jimin’s wrong, though.

           “Stop sulking, Kookie” Taehyung says, his loud voice louder over the bumming music.

           “Not sulking,” Jungkook says, refusing to look at the boy next to him.

           “Is my brother working you too hard?”

           “No,” Jungkook insists, finally looking at Taehyung.  He had to make sure the boy knew he was serious.  He never complains about Seokjin, especially not to his own brother.  Taehyung may come across as friendly and charming, but he scared Jungkook more than Seokjin did. With Seokjin, he knew when he was upset and knew by now how he would react.  Taehyung, however.  He glared and kept his mouth shut and made you wait, the anticipation leading to the anxiety for what was to come.  The boy stares at him a little intimidating now, waiting for Jungkook to crack under his gaze, but Jungkook looks away, distracted thankfully by a flashing light on the small stage in the center of the room.

           “You look like you could use another drink,” Hoseok says, the boy’s red hair brighter than any of the lights flashing occasionally across Jungkook’s eyes. He blinks and swirls his drink in front of his face for an answer.  The older man laughs, patting him on the shoulder as he passes him to sit by his boyfriend who promptly snuggles up to him.  The PDA makes Jungkook roll his eyes.  Even after years of enduring Jimin’s touchiness and often being on the receiving end of it, even if only platonically, he can’t understand his and Hoseok’s need to practically always be touching in front of others.  The possessiveness is revolting.  Or it’s just unfair, the way they look at each other even in a crowded club like there’s no one else in the room, like nothing else matters.  He should have sat closer to Namjoon and Yoongi. They’re both on their phones now and will barely notice anything all night unless their drinks run out or their batteries die or someone plops into their lap unexpectedly, though that isn’t bound to happen after the last time Yoongi almost got them all kicked out and barred for life after throwing the poor girl on the ground.  Hoseok knows not to try to prank his friend anymore.  Jungkook thinks he shouldn’t take the blame for things that are Jimin’s ideas, but perhaps that’s another boyfriend thing. Some odd need to protect the smaller boy, even though Yoongi couldn’t hurt a fly.  Jungkook’s tracing the scar on his face, thinking about the other one that’s deeper and longer on his thigh, when Taehyung sits up, his leg finally leaving Jungkook’s lap, and leans in close, elbowing Jungkook gently in the side to get his attention.

           “Look, new girl,” he says, loud enough for the rest of their small semi-circle to hear.  Taehyung’s almost as blunt as Yoongi, so he’s unashamed at the finger he points across he room.  Jungkook isn’t sure how Taehyung knows the girl is new, unless it’s the fact that she’s obviously nervous.  At least, the way she’s tugging at the hose around her thighs seems to indicate nervousness.  Perhaps the motion is just something she does absentmindedly like how Jungkook touches his scars.  But her eyes are darting around the room, and the emergence of Nestor behind her, the man whispering closely in her ear as his arm wrapped around her possessively, but not like Hoseok’s around Jimin’s, was just another indication that the girl was inexperienced.  

           “Bets?” Yoongi says, not looking up from his phone.

           “No bets,” Namjoon says, sending a look to Taehyung who raises his hand in defense.

           “Fun sucker,” he says, but Namjoon only goes back to his phone.  Taehyung leans into Jungkook’s ear to whisper anyway, “I give her two weeks.”

           “Four,” Jungkook whispers back, as quiet as one can be over bumming bass, if only to contradict Taehyung.

           “Four?  What makes you think that?  Look at her. She’s practically shaking,” Taehyung snorts, pointing again.  Jungkook only shrugs, looking away from her after saying,

           “She’s beautiful.”  Taehyung mutters something and whistles lowly, his tone enough to make Jungkook tune him out.  He tunes out the girl, too.  She’s in training and therefore not to be watched.  Besides, Jungkook is ready for his next drink that Hoseok had offered him mere minutes ago. It’s unfair, he thinks, noticing how tipsy Jimin is already.  He can barely feel any difference after two drinks.  But he feels his fingernail ghosting over his cheek.

           The club, you’ve been told, has several regulars who you must learn to please. They must be attended to quickly, must be given your full attention, must be obeyed immediately in all regards, and must be pleased well enough to want to return again.  The other girls insist they’re all nice guys; the word “nice” dripping off their tongues with only the slightest hint of sarcasm and bitterness and perhaps malice if you listened closely enough.  “Nice,” you’ve already learned usually meant one of two things: they tipped well or they weren’t too rough.  One of those descriptions sounded like common decency to you, but you were new to all of this.  The other seemed to depend on one’s salary, mood, and preferences, but the girls insisted all men were the same: easily to please, predictable, and in search of something to win, conquer, seize, dominate.  It’s not that you didn’t believe them, you just didn’t want to. You want to believe humans are more complicated than that.  That each person is unique enough to not be stereotyped or placed in the box with anyone else, not even one’s own sex.  But perhaps you were holding on to some hope that had been stripped away from you last week. Stripped away like the clothes you are slowly stripping for Nestor.  

           He isn’t happy.  Or pleased. He isn’t “nice,” either.  If he was a customer, he had already told you before, he wouldn’t tip you at all.  He would demand his money back and complain to the owner about how disappointing you were. But he is the owner, and you are wasting his time and losing him valuable money.  Barely two weeks into the job, you aren’t sure why he’s kept you, anyway, because no matter how hard you try, you don’t know how to be “sexy.” He had thought the innocent, shy, reserved charm you had would work, and perhaps that’s the hope he was holding onto. That some client would see you as someone to break.  He would have to break you first, though, and he already had, really.  He’s breaking you a bit, now, as he curses and grumbles and throws your shirt at you.

           “Just go get ready for tonight,” he hisses, adding another “useless” as you slink away.  It’s Thursday, and Thursdays’ regulars always include a group of men who work for someone named Kim Seokjin.  One of the girls mentioned something about owning TV stations or controlling the media, but apparently the boss rarely comes in.  They say his brother is easy to please, and always eager.  They had pointed him out to you last week, and even across the dark room you had noticed how handsome he was.  They all were, really, in an almost unfair way, but you suppose birds of a feather flock together.  They were back tonight, you notice quickly when you come back out, keenly aware of Nestor watching you closely.  You can’t work the stage or the floor yet, but you must start serving drinks, his patience running thin with you.  You find it a little unfair, as you always have, how short you are, how the other girls maneuver and dance in their heels, how effortlessly they interact with the customers.  But you need to bring in money tonight, so you let out a sigh before tapping on the bar to get Hersey’s attention.  The bartender’s name isn’t really Hersey, but all of the girls call him that, his chocolatey skin and sweet voice rightfully earning him the nickname. Besides, it rhymed with his real name, Kersey, and you were just glad he was working tonight.  He had been the most understanding about your condition and never rushed you.  Seeing you when he turned around, he gives you a wink before reaching under his bar for a few menus, passing them to you with an encouraging smile.  Trying to return him one of gratitude, you grab a silver metal tray to approach the semi-circle of men in the corner.

           Jimin is trying to tell Yoongi about how he scared Hoseok earlier that morning, totally unintentionally, but the boy seems uninterested.  Everyone seems uninterested tonight, Jimin thinks, or simply distracted.  Namjoon had to stay late with Seokjin, and Kookie wasn’t allowed to drink tonight in case he needed to go and pick his boss up, so Jimin thinks it will be up to him and Taehyung to keep the night interesting.  His boyfriend, clearly not amused by his retelling of how he almost died when Jimin appeared behind the fridge door out of nowhere, waves someone down, desperate to celebrate the fact that he is still alive.  He realizes a little too late that it is the same new girl from last week.  Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin notice, too, as soon as she’s closer.  She has a ridiculous tight cobalt blue leather mini-skirt on, heels that are surely killing her already, and what looks like nothing more than a white lace bralette on.  It’s not distracting at all to Hoseok, but Jungkook and Taehyung look intrigued.  They know she’s new and thus still off limits, will only serve them drinks, but Taehyung has that look in his eye he gets when he’s about to cause trouble, so Yoongi is almost relieved when the girl gets close enough to them, standing by Yoongi’s shoulder where he sits on the end of the long settee.  He’s a little rude, not looking up from his phone, maybe giving the girl a side-eye before he orders drinks for everyone.

           “Not me, hyung,” Jungkook says, watching the girl hold the thin silver metal tray behind her, smiling sweetly at them.  She’s close enough for him to see a healing bruise on her arm, either covered up sloppily or covered poorly on purpose, and he must be staring, because she crosses one of her arms across her body to put her hand over it, smiling at him when he looks up.  He looks away immediately, staring at his boots, noticing something akin to dirt on the side of one that requires his undivided attention as she walks away. She is already several feet away from Yoongi when he looks up from his phone and blinks, noticing her walking away.

           “Oh,” he says, “I didn’t know if she heard me.”  The room is loud like always, and Yoongi’s voice tended to be so low Jungkook sometimes wasn’t sure if he was mumbling to himself or actually trying to say something to everyone, but he blames Yoongi’s surprise on the man’s inability to pay attention to things he wasn’t completely interested in.

           “She does seem to be doing better,” Taehyung says, leaning against Jungkook and watching the girl at the bar.  Jungkook allows himself to look again, her white top easily visible through the haze.

           “Regret your bet?”

           “I thought Namjoon said no bets, Kookie,” Hoseok warns, but Jungkook blows him off with a wave of the end.

           “Namjoon isn’t here.”

           “What are he and my brother up to, anyway?” Taehyung asks, stretching out on the couch and occupying too much of Jungkook’s space if he is honest.

           “Don’t know, don’t care,” Jungkook says, which they all know is a lie.  Even if he says it’s unfair that he can’t drink tonight, he knows Seokjin and Namjoon are working late on a new deal, wishes they weren’t, knows he’ll be checking his phone every other minute, will wait anxiously for Seokjin’s text to come and get him.  Knowing he can’t drink tonight, Jungkook almost gets up when the girl returns, used to serving the others when they’re at Seokjin or Namjoon or Yoongi’s house, but he covers up his lame attempt by crossing his legs as if he only meant to shift his position in the first place.  Taehyung leans forward like he always does toward the small table the girl is putting the drinks on.  Yoongi mumbles some thanks to her but barely looks up as he takes his.  Jimin and Hoseok are at least polite, smiling their blinding smiles as she steps back from the table, holding that tiny silver tray in front of her now.  She looks like she is about to say something, even opens her mouth, but it shuts as she smiles and actually bows a little.  The move is odd and jarring and makes Jungkook feel like a sleezy old businessman, and his nose wrinkles involuntarily at her.  She doesn’t seem to notice as she turns away, but Taehyung half rises out of his seat and reaches over Jungkook with his freakishly long arms to grab her wrist.

           “Hey sweetheart, what’s your name?  You’re new, right?”  Jungkook knows that voice.  Taehyung sounds charming and charismatic, and Jungkook knows he is, but he also knows the boy will say whatever to get his way, can manipulate and twist words with the best of them.  The girl looks down, perhaps at Taehyung’s hand, or perhaps to see if, in some comic way, she’s wearing a nametag.  She isn’t, but Taehyung’s hand lets go.  He knows he’s not supposed to touch, and Jungkook’s eyes flicker up to the balcony. Nestor is busy not paying attention, thankfully.

           “Tae, be nice,” Hoseok warns, and Taehyung cocks his head, smiling widely at the girl.

           “I’m being nice!  Just wanna know your name,” he says again, and when she only smiles back, Taehyung’s smile changes to a pout.  “Look, beautiful, just tell us your name, yeah?”  But the girl’s smile only drops when she opens her mouth.  Jungkook sees her looking at Taehyung and then at him, her eyes flickering between all of them.  Even Yoongi looks up, his phone somehow momentarily forgotten in his hand, its screen still unnaturally bright in their dark corner.  He takes another drink and looks at everyone before going back to his phone before the girl says anything.

           “Alright,” Jimin says, his tone annoyed, as he reaches into his pockets for some cash.  He flaps it at the girl who leans forward after a moment of hesitation to take it, tucking it into one of her pockets and bowing slightly again.  She gives Taehyung another look before smiling at them all and turning to go.  “Taking the shy, innocent act a little too far, if you ask me,” Jimin says as Taehyung drowns his drink.

           “Don’t think you get to be a judge of that,” he says, and Jungkook is relieved, even if it at first feels a little unfair that his weekly outing with his only friends is cut short, to see Seokjin’s texting him.  He flashes his screen at the boys, and they proceed to wave him out, Yoongi already filling the gap he’s left on the couch by scooting closer to Taehyung.  Jungkook swears he just polished these boots last week, but there’s a scuff or stain on them that demands almost his entire attention as he makes his way back to the car. A small percentage of his attention, certainly no more than five percent, is given to the girl who’s leaning against the bar, not giving him any of her attention.  Jungkook thinks that’s a little unfair, for some reason.

           He’s really not supposed to be here on a Tuesday.  No one goes to the club on a Tuesday.  But last Thursday had been cut short, and his knuckles are still hurting from yesterday, and Jungkook wants a drink.  He is, more than he’d like to admit, a creature of habit, and while sitting alone in the club sounds a little pathetic, it sounds less pathetic than sitting alone in his apartment, because at least at the club he wouldn’t really be alone.  The place is, unsurprisingly, empty at six o’clock, and not technically open, but the bouncer recognizes Jungkook and knows to let him in.  It’s a little unfair, Jungkook thinks, but he isn’t complaining today, can’t complain when the bartender, who he thinks is named Kerwin or something, a guy who could pass for a bouncer but has a voice almost as high as Jimin’s, gives him a free drink because he’s “trying something new out.”  Jungkook sips it slowly and gratefully, glad the guy has work to do instead of making pointless small talk with him.  He leaves Jungkook to look around, more lights on in the place than he has ever seen.  It looks smaller, somehow, in the light, too empty and quiet.  There’s music playing, but it isn’t blaring like it will be in a few hours when it’s cranked up, some need to deaden all of people’s senses as if the alcohol wouldn’t do a good enough job at that.  Still, the bass is deep enough to vibrate the stool Jungkook is sitting on, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the yell that comes from up on the balcony.  The bartender looks up before looking warily at Jungkook.  He eyes the front door before looking back upstairs.  A light tap on the bar beside him makes him turn back around, and he sees the guy pouring something into a glass he hasn’t ordered and doesn’t like the look of.

           “Do me a favor?” the man says lowly.  “Take this upstairs?  Tell Nestor I want his opinion on this new bottle.”

           “Sure,” Jungkook says slowly, waiting until the glass is almost overflowing before he picks it up.  He isn’t sure why he’s being careful, because he hops off of the stool and loses a few drops, plus there is a staircase to go up.  He takes the stairs one at a time, trying to make as much noise but be as silent as possible as he goes up, watching the way the liquid in the glass ripples with each step he takes.  Jungkook doesn’t particularly like Nestor, but he helped break up a bar fight a couple of months ago, and the guy had finally seemed to see Jungkook’s potential as someone to keep on his good side, as if his position working for Kim Seokjin hadn’t been incentive enough for the club owner.  He didn’t take it personally; he preferred earning people’s trust instead of just relying on Seokjin’s name, though he also wasn’t afraid to use it when he needed.  He wasn’t sure what to do at first once he got to the top of the staircase.  He had only been up on the balcony a few times, always with Seokjin, and always in a serving or watching or guarding capacity, never as a customer.  He knew the bartender had had some other intention besides just sending a drink to his boss, and when he sees the new girl on the floor, holding her cheek, he curses silently and vows to finally learn the guy’s name so he can buy him a drink.

           “Nestor,” Jungkook says, his voice surprisingly even.  The man spins around, clearly ready to fight, but a smile, a disgusting one, albeit, crosses his face.

           “Kookie,” he says, and Jungkook tries not to sigh and roll his eyes at the name on the man’s tongue.  Nestor rubs his hands on his pants, straightening his shirt before holding out his palms toward Jungkook.  “What brings you in today?”

           “Just needed a drink,” Jungkook says honestly.  He belatedly remembers the drink in his hand isn’t for him and approaches to hand it to the man, taking care for their fingers not to touch.  “Ker-er, your bartender sent this up.  Says it’s a new bottle.”

           “It’s shit, is what it is,” Nestor says, smelling the glass before taking a quick sip.  His prediction seems to be correct, because he frowns and puts the glass down, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he fake gags.  “How’s your boss?”

           “Good,” Jungkook says, noticing that the girl is still kneeling on the floor, her head bowed deep against her chest.  “Busy as always.”

           “Drag his ass in sometime then.  He needs rest as much as the rest of us,” Nestor says, rounding the girl to slump in a chair.  Jungkook doesn’t respond, because only an idiot would think of dragging Kim Seokjin anywhere he didn’t want to go.  Jungkook had had to carry him out of a party once, and he wasn’t sure what was worse, dealing with the pictures afterwards and the media frenzy that came with them or Seokjin’s pure wrath that Jungkook had allowed him to get in such a state in the first place because he hadn’t been carried since he was a child and refused to be seen in such a degrading manner ever again.  He knows it’s not really his business, and he could be making things worse for Seokjin, but he thinks the girl might be crying, and he clears his throat, throwing a finger at her as he looks up at Nestor.

           “Sorry if I interrupted.”

           “Oh, no,” the man says, waving the matter away, opening up a folder on the table to start flipping through.  “She’s hopeless.”

           “Oh?” Jungkook says, leaning on the railing that overlooked the rest of the club, trying to not sound too interested.  “She served us well last week.”

           “Yeah?” Nestor says, looking up at him once before snorting.  “At least she’s not a complete idiot.  Really starting to think she’s not worth my time, though.”

           “What were you working on?” Jungkook asks, feeling like he was in the gym with Jimin or Seokjin, asking them what exercise they were having a particularly hard time with.

           “She can’t give head to save her life,” Nestor scowls, “and she’s the absolute worst at lap dances.  How hard is it to move your hips?”  The man picks up his drink, and for a second, Jungkook thinks he’s going to throw it at the girl, so he lifts himself off of the railing and takes a step toward him. And he isn’t completely wrong. Nestor drains the shit drink first before throwing it close enough at the girl that she jumps slightly and closes her eyes as a few shards fly at her.  The rest of the pieces are left in a sticky pile on the floor.

           “I could help,” Jungkook says slowly, watching the girl clenching her hands on her thighs.  She doesn’t look up at him, but Nestor does.

           “Wadda mean, kid?”

           “Mean I could help her.  With lap dances.”

           “Yeah?  You got experience, Kookie?” Nestor says tauntingly.  Jungkook doesn’t answer truthfully, thinking of that one embarrassing time he lost control of himself and found himself on Taehyung’s lap before Seokjin practically yanked his entire ear off when he dragged him away.

           “Like you said,” Jungkook says, smiling slyly, “how hard is it to move your hips?”

           “I don’t give lap dances for free,” Nestor says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

           “Good thing I’m not asking you for a lap dance,” Jungkook jokes, and thankfully the man smirks.  “And I don’t offer lessons for free.  So let’s just say we’re helping each other out.”

           “It’ll be a waste of your time,” Nestor says, “but I’m not going to stop you.  Y/N, get up.” The girl, Y/N, seems to twitch before she stirs, standing up slowly and shuffling over to Jungkook with her head still bowed low. He sees too late that she only has socks on, and he watches her feet closely to make sure she hasn’t stepped on any glass hard enough to puncture her skin, but she arrives in front of him seemingly unscathed.  She at least knows to take Jungkook’s hand and lead him somewhere, toward Nestor to a loveseat with a low back that’s too low to the ground.  Jungkook redirects her to a chair further away from Nestor, though.

           “First tip is always try to go for a chair,” he says, turning around to sit himself down.  The chair is a little too soft, and he sinks a little into it, but it’s narrow enough. He lets go of her hand and watches as she stares at what looks like his knees.  He sees her take a deep breath, and when she lifts her head finally he can tell she has been crying.  He curses under his breath, because he’s definitely bitten off more than he can chew here. Jimin would know what to do with a crying girl, and so would Seokjin.  Hell, even Yoongi could figure it out, but Jungkook feels out of his element. To try to cover up how awkward he feels, he continues to explain.  “That way straddling is easier.  On a couch you’d have to bend your knees, and that’s honestly not that pleasant.  You want a chair low enough to the ground that you can use your feet to lift yourself up and down.  Make sense?”  It really does sound like he’s explaining how to do a move at the gym, and that’s territory he knows.  The girl nods before taking another deep breath.  She isn’t exactly completely dressed for work, a giant white shirt covering her entire torso, but it’s see-through enough and resembles shirts he wears enough to make him question if this was a good idea.  And when she finally climbs, too timidly, onto his legs, he clenches his jaw at the sight of the pink lace poking through.  He couldn’t imagine how jeans touching her bare thighs was going to be pleasant, but he tries not to think about it, concentrating on watching her face.  She hesitates too long, her hands on her own thighs, and stays too close to his knees. “You can,” Jungkook says, putting his hands on the sides of the chair, “put your hands on my shoulders if you need to. For leverage.  Remember, no one’s supposed to touch you unless you say so.” She actually looks up at that, and Jungkook tries not to lose the air in his lungs.  She’s close enough and it’s bright enough in the room for him to see her blue eyes.  They’re a scary blue, almost unnatural, shining and yet deep, and they contrast well with her dark hair that barely passes her ears.  She looks surprised at his words, which surprises him, because everyone knows those are the rules.  Still, she obeys him, but her grip on his shoulders is so light he can barely feel her fingers beneath his jacket and shirt.  “Okay,” he says, “you’re doing good.”  She looks confused at him again, as if she doesn’t believe him, but he manages a small smile before nodding.  “Think of it as a dance.  Just, a dance with no space in between you and your partner.  And.  Well, a sexy dance,” he ends lamely, trying not to laugh at himself.  The girl doesn’t smile at all, and he mentally curses himself for sounding so stupid.  She seems to wait for a second, her head bobbing slowly, a good sign that she was at least hearing the music.  Jungkook feels like he's waited so long that the moment she did move, her fingers digging into his shoulder a little harder, her legs moving barely up his jeans, he almost jolts in surprise.  If he did, she didn’t notice, or she is better than Nestor thought to not say anything. Everyone knew making fun of a client was a sure way to never get requested again.  Jungkook let her rock for a moment, biting at the inside of his mouth as he watched her.  She is only looking at her lap, or his, and he licks his lips tentatively.  

          “Typically,” he says gently, trying not to be too loud. Nestor was looking over occasionally, but he seemed otherwise occupied with the paperwork in front of him.  “Men are more easily excited if you’re closer to their crotches.  I’m sure some could get off rubbing thighs, but that’s probably only a few people, like maybe my friend Jimin could get off that way.  Just, you have to get closer, okay?”  He keeps his hands off of her, but he isn’t sure she’s going to comply.  But she takes another deep breath and scoots closer.  Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid for agreeing to help, because she smells like jasmine and oranges and her chest is touching his and she’s done exactly what he’s said. She opens her mouth and he has to lean his head back, but this chair’s back doesn’t come up far enough, so he imagines he looks a little like a stupidstupidstupid fish out of water, gaping up at her.  

          “Good job,” he manages, unsure of what she’s going to say or ask.  She shuts her mouth again anyway.  And Jungkook wonders what Kermit put in his drink earlier, because his mouth goes dry when the girl starts moving again.  He lets her move back and forth a few times before stopping her.  “Okay, hold on,” he says, and she stills immediately, so quickly Jungkook almost forgets what he was going to say.  There’s this dried tear on her face that is extremely distracting.  “Okay, so this is like a dance, right?  And when you’re dancing, your face is actually what matters most.  If you look like you’re having fun, no one will notice if you mess up a step.  Does that make sense?”  The girl nods slowly but bites her lip.  “Just, pretend.  Do you have a boyfriend?”  She shakes her head, and Jungkook thinks it was a dumb question, because why would she be working here if she did, but he also didn’t want to assume, because maybe she had a super understanding and open boy, or, well, maybe he should ask if she had a girlfriend, but he’s losing his train of thought now.  “Okay, good, just pretend I’m someone you actually like. Pretend you actually find me attractive.“  He hadn’t meant it as a joke, because he really thought it was good advice, but the girl actually smiles lightly at him, and Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid because he knows he’s good looking.  He’s fit and has a sweet, even if it looks too young in his opinion, looking face.  “Try to always keep eye contact,” he adds on, because apparently he’s wanting to make everything harder on himself.  “But if you want, close your eyes.  Guys like when girls throw their head back and shit.” The girl cocks her head at that, and Jungkook shrugs.  “I don’t know.  Something about baring the neck.  It’s sexy.” The girl almost seems like she’s about to try it, but the song changes, and Jungkook can tell she knows it.  Her mouth pops open again, and the tiniest smile crosses her lips, and he knows how helpful music can be.  When she starts to move again, he almost believes that she’s enjoying it.  And she’s not bad, not as bad as Nestor had made her sound, but maybe it’s the way her shirt has moved up to her hips, maybe it’s the way she’s taken all of Jungkook’s suggestions, or maybe Jungkook’s just more desperate today than he thought he was when he came in because he finds himself trying to think of anything else but her warm thighs on his.  But there is still something off.  She’s not quite believable, and Jungkook looks over at Nestor, asking the owner but really asking the girl, his voice probably too loud with her so close.  “Alright if I touch her?”

          “Go for it,” Nestor grunts, and Jungkook looks up at the girl who has stilled in his lap.  She raises her eyebrows up at him.

          “Just want to show you,” he says, stupidstupidstupid, as he slips his hands on her shirt over her waist, “how to alternate between hard and soft.”  He tugs at her hips, indicating for her to move, and she does, even if she is moving slower now.  Jungkook doesn’t really mind, only thinks it’s all a little unfair, but he got himself into this mess, and is a little proud when he lifts her up just enough that he loses the feeling of her before bringing her back down hard and she gasps.  “Okay?” he says, going from smug to worried when her face twists, but when she shakes her head he does it again before letting go of her hips to let her try it by herself.  She is picking up quickly, even if her face still looks a little pained, but not everyone liked to give eye contact during a lap dance.  He was probably just weird like that.  “Good job,” he whispers, and the girl smiles at him in such a way he has to touch her again.  “You can also, like I said,” he says as he moves his legs, “just go for the thigh. Not, uh, sure how comfortable that is, and, remember, no one’s supposed to touch you, but—” he says, spreading his legs wide so she could move to just one of them.  She feels too far away now, and she’s ducking her head again, so his hands still on her thighs, her skin warm and almost too welcoming under his fingers.  

          “You okay?”  He removes his hands, sure he’s crossed a boundary, but she finally removes her hands, too, but they move from his shoulder to his leg, their proximity a little alarmingly close to his crotch.  “You’re really doing fine.  Did I do something wrong?”  The girl shakes her head, pressing most of her weight onto her hands as she is trying to lift herself off of Jungkook’s thigh.  He contemplates for a moment, unsure of what is going on.  “There’s one other thing I could show you, if you want.” The girl doesn’t move, though, and Jungkook almost looks over at Nestor for help, but he feels like that is just asking for trouble, so instead he taps the girl’s thigh gently.  “Or we can stop.  Either way, I need you to get up.”  She’s been hiding her face again, tucking her neck as far down as she could, and she keeps it that way as she shimmies backwards off of Jungkook’s leg, standing up and playing with the hem of her long shirt.  Jungkook eyes her oddly before stretching out his legs, his muscles a little tingly from her weight, but he stops when he sees a tiny wet spot on his pants.  “Hey,” he says, understanding why she was so reluctant to get up, “it’s okay.  That’s bound to happen.”  But when he starts to stand up, having to take a step closer to her as he does she, she shrinks away, and he stops, mentally cursing, because he’s somehow managed to screw everything up.  Nestor is finally stirring from his seat, and the girl jerks even more violently when she sees him moving.

          “Told you she’s a waste of time,” he says.

          “She, she wasn’t bad, honestly,” Jungkook says, trying again to not sound too interested.  He had thought there had a been a moment where the girl really had been enjoying what she was doing, but it had fled so quickly, he wonders if he had imagined it all.  She looked the same as she did when he first came up the stairs, minus any fresh tears and sporting a little more color in cheeks.

          “He did all that for you and you ruined his pants?” Nestor was saying, but Jungkook shakes his head.

          “They’re fine, really, not ruined.  I-I hope it helped some.”

          “We’ll see, won’t we?” Nestor says, grabbing the girl’s arm.  “Say thank you to Kookie.”  There is such a sneer to his voice, Jungkook’s sense that something is off and wrong and confusing only spikes.  The girl’s mouth drops open, but her lips only tremble.  She doesn’t look up at Jungkook.  And she doesn’t thank him.  “Maybe next time the kid can teach you to talk, huh?”  She doesn’t say anything, and Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid as he walks down the steps, thinking about all of the ways the world is unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I made a lot of typos, oops, but I have had a headache for five days, so whatever.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	2. Embarrassing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wrote a second chapter! Here are a few things you might want to know.
> 
> Ages: Seokjin (32), Yoongi (30), Namjoon (28), Hoseok (28), Jimin (26), Taehyung (26), Jungkook (24), Y/N (22).
> 
> Y/N’s description: Again, if it wasn’t clear from the last chapter, she is wearing contacts and her hair is dyed. But she is still short, ha.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and comments! I appreciate them, and it helps me know what to make more obvious, etc.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks. Mention of suicide (but it’s a metaphor, it’s about a mushroom falling off a pizza, so.)

           It’s embarrassing, really.  That’s all you can think the moment the boy, Kookie, leaves.  You wish you were never going to see him again, but you already knew he was a regular, and he will be back in two days.  Nestor’s continual displeasure, which is putting it lightly, with you is embarrassing, is infuriating.  At least the boy had given you pointers.  Nestor told you you were useless or smacked you before telling you to do better, whatever that meant.  You had tried to ice your cheek after upsetting him again, but even with layers of makeup on it was still visible on Thursday.  

           One of the girls, Bell, says something about there being more than one reason the club is kept so dark as she smiles and applies too much glitter eyeshadow on your lids.  There’s an ache in your stomach tonight after not being given lunch or dinner, and you feel more unsteady than usual when you lace up your heels, some part of you laughing at the absurdity of suiting up as if you going to war.  You feel like you are, in a way, and feel completely unprepared. As expected, the group of men you’ve come to recognize after three weeks is sitting in its usual corner.  Even though they always dress in almost all black, some of them melding into the shadows, you can tell their number has grown, the one with red hair and a blinding smile hugging a man with broad shoulders before sitting down next to whom you have gathered is his boyfriend, or at least a man he is intimate with.  The new man seems bored as he talks to the one with silver hair who is usually always on his phone.  He wasn’t here last week, and you wonder if they all work together.  You wonder if you care.  

          The young boy is there, too, and you feel embarrassed because you know at some point in the night you will have to go near their table. There had been something about the boy, a level of shyness you hadn’t seen since you started working at the club even if you hadn’t personally been that close to any other man yet.  You expected everyone to be like Nestor, to demand and take and hit if not satisfied.  But the boy had been commanding in his own way, had instructed and guided and rewarded you when you did well, and his simple praise of “good job” had made actually want to try to please him.  You feel embarrassed just thinking about it, now, because he was just going to be some client, and even if he had been gentle and seemed like he meant well, in the end he was the one choosing.  You were going to have to, as he had told you, pretend, fake, act like you cared. 

           You tug once at the choker Nestor had put on your neck a few moments ago, a visible symbol that you were at least ready to give lap dances.  Nestor had warned you, and told you he didn’t want to have to warn you again, that if you didn’t make money tonight you were going to regret it.  It’s not that you hadn’t brought in any money yet.  You made good tips, even if a few customers got annoyed with how quiet you were, but apparently it wasn’t enough to appease Nestor.  Unsure of exactly how you were going to do that tonight, you don’t look at the corner and scan the room for people you don’t recognize.  A first-timer or someone who rarely comes in would be safer.  They might pay less, or they might pay more, but they weren’t likely to complain if you weren’t good.  You check in with Hersey at the bar first, grateful as always to see him.  Some days you can only relate the last three weeks to some odd sort of camp.  You couldn’t think of another experience where you got close to the people you were working with so quickly, some collective need bringing you all together like no other job could.  He’s barely even had time to greet you with a smile before you feel someone tugging at your elbow, and you want to pull away, to punch, but you simply turn to see Nestor there, the same look of disgust he always has on his face when he looks at you too closely.

           “You’ve been requested at the table in the corner.  Don’t fuck this up for me, Y/N.  That’s Kim Seokjin over there, and I do not need him on my ass.  Now get your ass over there,” he practically spits, and part of you wonders if his saliva really is acidic when it hits your face, or if you only recoil from him because he lets go of your arm.  Whatever the case, he doesn’t point because you know which corner he means, and while the name Kim Seokjin means nothing to you, you know he’s an important client.  And the young man, whose name is apparently Kookie, is sitting there, too, and you know you’re in for an embarrassing night.

           Seokjin has always had an affinity for embarrassing other people.  He himself has rarely ever felt any shame, but he has heard Namjoon and Yoongi and Taehyung tell him before that he was embarrassing them, as if that was going to make him stop whatever he was doing.  No, he had always loved messing with his little brother, telling stories to his friends Taehyung would never want anyone to know, bursting in on him “accidentally” when he had someone over, tickling under his chin in a business meeting.  But the older Taehyung got, the less Seokjin’s little brother seemed to be bothered by his antics.  Seokjin has matured, too.  Needed to. Had to.  He didn’t play pranks anymore, and he rarely teased anyone, though Hoseok and Jimin sometimes just made it too easy.  But he isn’t ashamed to admit when he hired Jungkook two years ago that he found some rekindled delight in making the boy flustered.  He had hardened, too, and therefore grown a little boring, but Seokjin still reveled in making the boy blush or shrink in on himself.  So while coming to the club with everyone else had originally sounded a little boring, as he would rather be at home simply lounging on expensive bed sheets, he figures now that the night has potential when Namjoon says,

           “So, I heard from a little bird that you gave the new girl some instruction, Kookie.”  Seokjin sometimes forgets how much younger Jungkook is, despite his size and weight, but the nickname never fails to remind him of his place.  The boy looks annoyed immediately and shoots daggers at Taehyung who smiles innocently, a smile Seokjin knows well is anything but.

           “Oh?” Jimin says sweetly, and Seokjin almost believes he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, but only until the boy smirks at Jungkook.  “Instruction in what?”

           “Oh, you know, just some exercise moves,” Jungkook says, trying to get everyone to leave him alone, but he’s opened the gate, now, and the dogs are out for blood.

           “Pelvis exercises, right?” Namjoon grins, nudging Yoongi sitting beside him. The blonde-haired man looks up from his phone and looks around.

           “What?”

           “Never mind, Yoongi hyung, go back to your games,” Namjoon sighs.  Yoongi’s eyes narrow for a moment.

           “Not playing a game,” he says, but he goes back to his phone anyway.

           “Anyway,” Taehyung yawns, stretching his arms and throwing one around his brother and one around Jungkook.  He has always been a bit like a cat in taking up space, Seokjin knows.  “Why don’t we see how good of a teacher you are?”

           “Oh, yeah, let’s give the girl a test,” Jimin says, clapping his hands like a true menace.

           “I don’t have money for that,” Jungkook grumbles, and, oh, Seokjin seizes on the opportunity.

           “Here,” he says, pulling out his wallet and tossing a wad of cash to his driver. “I owe you for overtime, anyway.”

           “That’s,” Jungkook starts, but at one look for Seokjin, his famous glare, he decides against contradicting his boss.  Resistance is futile, anyway, because Hoseok is up already, moving easily and quickly across the floor toward Nestor.  Seokjin watches his friend whisper in the man’s ear, and he doesn’t miss the surprise across Nestor’s face, even if it disappears quickly, replaced by his usual scowl.  Nestor is an ugly man, in more ways than one, and he has never been someone Seokjin has particularly enjoyed doing business with.  But he hadn’t really had any problems with him before, just preferred to surround himself with beautiful things instead.  Like this girl, whose name Seokjin never caught.  Even though her hair is clearly dyed, too dark to be natural, she has a corset so intricate on it makes her look out of place, too glamorous for Nestor’s shithole.  Her skirt is three layers of black mesh, and a dark garter, almost identical to the choker around her neck, sits just beneath the hem of it.  She walks a little too stiffly, perhaps due to the excessive heels she has on, and she has too much makeup on, but she has a natural beauty Seokjin recognizes through all of the distractions.  He supposes this isn’t a place people come to for reality, otherwise she might feel more comfortable being herself.  Still, he watches gleefully as he sips his drink when the girl comes over, because it’s obvious she’s nervous, or at least trying to act so, playing with the bottom of her skirt and twisting back and forth a few times when she comes up. She doesn’t say anything, and the other men seem to expect this, because Taehyung leans forward, winks noticeably at her, and points to Jungkook.  The boy couldn’t look more embarrassed if he tried, and Seokjin only grins wider, sitting back and pulling his brother with him so he can enjoy the show.

           Jungkook regrets ever telling Taehyung anything in his entire life.  He should know by now the man was a gossip and a sneak and would only delight in his pain.  But he refused to let them win.  He wasn’t about to crack under pressure.  He had had a lap dance before, an actual one, on his twenty-first birthday, courtesy of the idiots who were considered his brothers at the time, pre-Seokjin days, and another one courtesy of Seokjin.  Not that his boss gave him a lap dance.  He paid for one, is all.  Jungkook loved dancing and was not embarrassed about grinding on someone or having someone grind on him.  What he minded was being watched.  It was the way they expected him to lose it too quickly or not be able to get it up at all, the way he was going to be made fun of no matter what he did, that annoyed him. He realizes, as the girl approaches him after Taehyung points his way, that this might be embarrassing for her, too, and he resolves to accept his defeat, even though part of his soul feels like it dies when he tells himself that, because if he’s going to lose, then the girl needs to win.  He’s not sure what she’ll win, but he can see the bruise developing on her face from where Nestor had smacked her two days ago, and he feels like she needs a win in her life.  Jungkook wonders, briefly, why the music is so loud, wishes it wasn’t so he could talk to her, but he knows he’s not supposed to instruct tonight, just sit back and pretend like he’s enjoying.  He’s not sure if he should let himself enjoy it, even though he knows he’s going to at the same time.  He’s in a lose-lose situation, and it flusters him enough to mumble a curse under his breath when she climbs into his lap.  He feels a little grateful that she’s looking at him, because it makes him look away from everyone else, makes tuning out their obnoxious whistles and intense stares and lopsided grins easier, but he also wishes she would look away, because she is trembling slightly.  When he leans up a little off of the couch, only to tell her something, she reacts quickly, her knees already digging into the couch as she puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

           “I won’t touch,” he whispers, unsure if she hears, but he doesn’t want Hoseok, who’s sitting the closest to him, to hear him.  Grateful he’s still wearing his jacket, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and feels a little bit idiotic sitting there, especially when the girl looks a little surprised, but he thinks she did hear him or at least understands, because she starts to move, one hand still on his chest, the other draped loosely over her own thigh.  And so he sits and watches her face as she works, because it’s just a job.  And he knows it will be over soon, after one song that is probably three minutes long, she will get off of him and the boys will hoot like baboons and he will try to not be embarrassed but fail miserably and then he will go home and not think of why the girl is smiling slightly at him. Because she is.  And he can’t ignore that.  He actually smiles back, tentatively, and that only makes her smile wider.  He’s afraid he’s on the verge of laughing, which would be embarrassing for both of them, so he pushes his tongue against the side of his mouth, and the girl moves. Not that she wasn’t moving before. But she rolls her hips hard against him like he had taught her, and he feels a bit like a bull at the way he sucks in air through his nose suddenly.  And her hand isn’t just resting on his chest, it’s working its way across his chest now, and she lifts herself off of him slightly to curl her other hand around his neck, and he wishes he didn’t hear someone practically yell,

           “Don’t just sit there!”  He said he wouldn’t touch, and he knows he’s not supposed to unless she says something, but she only opens her mouth, and she so clearly can’t tell him to do it or to not, so he ignores whoever shouted at him and just sits there, clenching his jaw when her chest skims across his when she lowers herself back down on him. Her face is mere inches away from his, and no amount of makeup could hide how tired she looks.  She seems wobbly even perched in his lap, and Jungkook wonders how else she spends her time, if she’s a student or has a kid at home or just works too much.  He wonders what could explain why she looks so exhausted and drained.  For her sake, and for his own, because he is embarrassed and would like to get the rest of his humiliation over as soon as possible, he is glad when he hears the song end.  She stills so quickly, like a trained robot, and Jungkook wonders if he is going to have to gently push her off when she doesn’t move.  The way she is looking at him, her eyes flickering over his face, makes him squirm, and the way he lifts up one of his legs under her seems to be what she needs to blink before sliding off of him.  She hangs her head immediately, like she had two days ago, and Jungkook wants to tell her she did well, because he likes to hear words of encouragement when he feels embarrassed or when he’s afraid he’s not performed well, but instead he wrestles his hand out of his pocket and thrusts the wad of cash Seokjin had given him toward her.  She, and the boys, probably, look surprised at the gesture.  Jungkook didn’t even bother to count it, but it’s more than she needs, more than he needs, if he knows Seokjin.  And he does.  She takes the money warily, looking at Jungkook as she does, and when she unfolds the bills, her eyes widen.  Her mouth drops open and she tries to hand the bills back to Jungkook, but he stands up, ignoring his friends and boss and looking to see Nestor eyeing them closely.

           “Nestor,” Jungkook hisses to the girl.  “But try to hide some, too.”  He curls her fingers back around the money and pushes her own fist toward her chest, letting go before he touches her anymore since he said he wouldn’t.  She looks at him, a little frightened this time at her boss’ name, and nods slowly.  She gives Jungkook a tiny bow again which makes him feel weird, which is a big deal considering he was already feeling extremely odd about the entire situation, before she does the same to the rest of the men on the couches. And Jungkook does not groan when he sit back down, even if he feels like it, because Hoseok is already smacking his arm, and Taehyung is already laughing, and Jimin is already shaking his head, and Namjoon is already saying,

           “Well, that was disappointing.”  

           “What’s going on?” Yoongi says, looking up from his device at Namjoon’s comment.

           “You just missed the most awkward lap dance I have ever had the misfortune of seeing,” Taehyung says, reaching across Namjoon to pat Yoongi’s knee.  “Be grateful.”

           “It wasn’t that bad,” Jungkook says, crossing his arms over his chest.

           “You made it awkward, Kookie,” Hoseok says, patting the boy’s arm.  “You just sat there.”

           “What was I supposed to do?  I promised I wouldn’t touch her.”

           “Why?” someone asks.  Jungkook shrugs and watches her approaching Nestor, already giving him the money.  Something stirs in Jungkook that wouldn’t look pretty if it was visible.

           “Maybe the kid was just trying to respect her.  Maybe she didn’t want to be riding his lap with all of you gross heads watching her,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook could kiss the man if he could get away without adding more shame on his already heavy head.

           “If she didn’t want it, she wouldn’t be working here,” Hoseok says, but his friend only frowns at him.

           “You really think she wants to be working here?  That any of them like this?”

           “Why would they be here otherwise?”

           “I don’t know,” Yoongi says, already going back to his phone.  “But desperate times, Hobi.  You should know.”  They all should.  Do. Jungkook thinks of his own desperation two years ago, how he would have done just about anything to survive.  How Seokjin noticed that and hired him.  He wonders what has made the girl so desperate that she has chosen to spend her nights doing what he can so clearly see she hates.

           He almost throws the invitation away, not only because it looks ratty and smells a little too much like cheap cigarettes, but because despite the fact that he’s received one before, has received several over the years, he’s never gone to one of Nestor’s little events.  He’s not even sure what to call it, refuses to look at what Nestor’s name the occasion.  He’s pretty sure it’s fake, anyway, but no one will bother to check because at the end of the day no one really cares.  It’s the inclusion of a picture of the girl he had seen last time who had helped make Jungkook so flustered that Seokjin had been delighted to see that makes him pause and reconsider.  She is beautiful, and she looks, intentionally, a little purer, a little too edited, in the photo.  He can’t say he is particularly interested in her because of her looks. Instead, he had found it intriguing and a little alarming at how silent she had been.  When he had pestered Jungkook about her, he had mentioned something about never hearing her speak, and Seokjin simply can’t image why Nestor would hire someone like her.  So he goes to the auction and makes Jungkook drive him, noticing the boy has on a new watch courtesy of his brother after he lost another bet.  The boy bites his lips too much on the way there when he thinks Seokjin isn’t watching, and Seokjin wonders when the boy will finally speak to Seokjin as an equal instead of just as his employee.  He supposes it’s partially his fault, and partly just Jungkook’s personality, but they don’t banter like he does with Namjoon and Yoongi and Hoseok and Jimin.  There are no playful slaps or elbows in their ribs.  Seokjin tells Jungkook what to do, and Jungkook obeys.  Sometimes Seokjin wishes he would say no sometimes.  But he doesn’t, even if he is uncomfortable, while he stands behind Seokjin at the event.  He knows it shouldn’t matter, knows everyone in the room knows who he is, knows he could buy the entire place up in a second, but for some reason Seokjin is embarrassed to be here, as if he was admitting he needed to pay someone to be with him.  He had never done so before, and he never intended to.  He wasn’t going to bid on the girl.  He just wanted to see her again and see if she could talk.  Maybe, if Jungkook told him he was uncomfortable, Seokjin would buy the girl for him as a reward.

           You’re not a virgin, though you don’t tell Nestor that.  You don’t think he would care, anyway.  It all feels very medieval, and at any moment you half expect a “doctor” in a long white robe to come out of the back and ask you to lift your skirt so they could all examine you before you were bedded.  They wouldn’t find what they were looking for, or they would find something they didn’t want, because you had had a steady boyfriend for three years in college, and then you had left him to come here.  You wonder, some nights as you shiver on your makeshift bed, how Brycen is doing.  You’re shivering again now, but for a different reason.  Only you and another girl who is even newer than you, Miah, younger and somehow even more skittish, are on the stage beside Nestor, and as Bell had told you what it meant, that after tonight Nestor would make you do anything and everything the clients wanted, the thought of the men in front of you doing whatever they wanted with you made you feel queasy and clammy.  It was two in particular that made you shiver, though.  That boy was back with his friend, though he seemed more like a boss.  He sat in such a way that his presence demanded the attention of everyone in the room, and you could feel Nestor eyeing the man uneasily. You knew only those who received an invitation could get in, so you wondered why the man seemed so shaken up by seeing the other.  Kim Seokjin, you remember, the girls having asked you all sorts of questions two weeks ago after you had been requested.  You had been brought over each week they showed up, too, and they left good tips, so you couldn’t really complain.  But you hadn’t seen him since that night, and you watch as the boy stands behind him, hands crossed in front of him and his feet spread wide.  He’s narrow but obviously strong, and you wonder if he’s the man’s body guard even if he’s half the size of the other ones in the room.  You make eye contact with the boy on more than one occasion, and while part of you is embarrassed, the other part finds something grounding in them.  He’s familiar, by this point, even if you wish he wasn’t seeing you like this.  When his boss raises his hand once Nestor shuts up, you feel Nestor stutter before he continues, but Kim Seokjin keeps his hand up.  He keeps it up even when no one else is bidding, as they just watch the man out of the corner of their eyes.  Only when Nestor mentions a ridiculously high number does the man put his hand down, choosing to place it on top of his other one that is already on his crossed knees. And you have to look at him, now, considering he’s going to be looking at you very soon, and the way he looks you up and down makes you block out the rest of what Nestor is saying.  His words are merely muffled noises as you stare at the man who has just, supposedly, bought the right to your virginity, until a hand on your elbow snaps you back to reality.  

           “Go on, Y/N,” Nestor snaps, and Seokjin rises slowly from his chair, his face stern.

           “Hands off now, Nestor.  She’s mine, isn’t she?”

           “Of course, of course,” Nestor says, rubbing his hands together once he lets go of you.  “Please, I will show you to your room.”

           “Oh,” the other man says, sticking one hand lazily in his slack’s pockets.  He’s dressed extremely well for the evening, just another sign of the ridiculousness of the whole situation to you.  “Did you think I was going to stay in one of your dingy rooms, Nestor?”

           “Ah, well,” the man beside you says, and there is something akin to sweet revenge boiling within you every time the man shrinks into himself a little more.  “What did you have in mind, sir?”

           “I’ll take her home, of course.”

           “Oh, well,” Nestor fumbles again, clearly not expecting this answer but clearly not wanting to allow it, either, his fingers still twisting with each other in front of his body.  “That’s unprecedented, sir,” he says, and you’re surprised he even knows the word.

           “As is my attendance at one of your little soirees.  You should honored I even bothered to accept your pitiful invitation, Nestor.”

           “Of course, of course I am, sir,” Nestor says, the tiniest hint of groveling in his tone.  Seokjin is still standing straight, tall, nearby, and the juxtaposition between the two men almost has you laughing.

           “Then I think you can make an exception just this one time.  Now, Y/N, is it?” he says, turning his eyes toward you.  You swallow thickly and nod, goosebumps rising on your arm.  “Go and gather your things, dear, so we can leave this,” he looks around and smiles at Nestor, “place.  Kookie, bring the car around.”

           “Yes, boss,” the boy behind him says, but he shoots you a look before he goes. He looks distraught and conflicted, for some reason.  You look at Nestor before obeying the man, because even if he has just bought you for the night, he doesn’t own you, but Nestor seems to be letting him call all of the shots, so you step carefully past Seokjin and toward the room you share with three other girls.  You don’t make it far before you realize he’s following you, and your embarrassment only grows when he stands in the doorway and watches you gather what little possessions you do have.  There is a pair of pants hanging on a chair, and your small bag of toiletries under your pillow, or, a pillow, as it’s not yours, and you roll the blue jeans around the plastic bag and stand there looking at Seokjin, who is frowning at the state of the room.

           “Is that it, little one?”  You absolutely gulp at the name and nod uncomfortably.  “Don’t you have a phone?”  You shake your head slowly, noticing Nestor watching.  The man hums and frowns even deeper before turning away quickly.  Nestor is there waiting, though, and he seems to have had time to think about what to say, for he stops Seokjin and you before you can leave.

           “You’ll bring her back tomorrow, then?  I would hate to have to send someone to collect her.”  You almost bump into Seokjin when he stops, and you can see his shoulders roll slightly when he turns around.

           “Did you just threaten me?”

           “No,” Nestor says immediately, his hands flying up in his defense.  “Not at all.  Just don’t want to lose any money while she’s gone.”

           “Oh, is that all?  How much money does she bring in a night?” Seokjin says, but he looks at you while Nestor answers.  The number he gives is probably twice as much as you make, and you shake your head barely, hopefully enough for Seokjin to notice but for Nestor to miss.  “Oh, is that all?” Seokjin says again.  He smiles now, and his eyes disappear a little.  “I’ll have Yoongi wire over your money tomorrow then. I’ll pay twice that for each day I’m inconveniencing you.  Does that sound fair now, Nestor?”  It sounds more than fair, and Nestor mumbles something about it being acceptable.  “Good, good.  Now, come along.”  You feel a bit like a dog being called, but considering the man has basically just bought you, you suppose it’s to be expected.  Besides, unlike poor Miah, you’ll actually get to go somewhere else for the night and stay over until the morning.  And if this guy could spend so much money on you for just one night, you could only imagine what his place would look like.

           The air is cold, jarringly so, outside of the club, and Seokjin can not believe the girl doesn’t have a coat, but he can at the same time, remembering a time when Jimin was that poor, so he takes his off to put it around her shoulders. She almost drops her precious bundle, a pair of pants and what had looked like a toothbrush and makeup.  She still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t even say thank you when he opens the door to the car and closes it behind her.  She’s silent in the car, too, her eyes wide as she looks at all of the buildings and lights pass in the dark outside the window. Seokjin notices her look at Jungkook driving a few times and notes the way the boy looks in the rearview mirror to her but then to him every time he is caught.  Not a peep is heard out of her when they pull up at Seokjin’s impressive building.  He tells Jungkook to be back in the morning by eight, and the girl looks, almost pleadingly at him, but Jungkook does his job, says “Yes, boss,” and shuts the doors behind them before driving off.  The girl doesn’t thank him or ask him to stay or say anything during the long elevator ride. She doesn’t acknowledge the two guards that greet them, their eyebrows raised maybe a little too much for Seokjin’s liking.  Her mouth opens a little when he unlocks the front door with the keypad, and she gasps a little in surprise when he starts to take off her coat.  But she only stands in his kitchen looking around his open floor plan.  He takes her small bundle from her because it’s making him feel awkward before asking if she wants a drink, and she only shakes her head.  He pours himself one slowly, watching her take in her surroundings without moving apart from her eyes as they search every corner she can see.  He notes how she fiddles with the hem of her baby doll dress, a pretty ivory color against her darker skin.  If it wasn’t so see-through and short, it would make a beautiful normal dress, Seokjin thinks as he finishes his drink.  He’s about to say something when she takes a deep breath, and he waits, expecting her to finally say something, but all she does is look at him before stepping toward him.  She’s taken off her heels, and she looks happier already, but she is tiny now. His eyebrows narrow when she takes his hand, but he lets her lead him to his living room.  She seems to look at the couch before choosing Seokjin’s favorite reading chair, pulling him along and guiding him down into it before she lets go of him.  He forgets, for a moment, what they’re supposed to be doing when her lip trembles and her fingers twitch before she starts to lift up the hem of her dress, her smooth stomach revealing itself slowly.

           “Wait,” Seokjin says, holding out his hand.  She looks at it briefly before pushing it aside, putting her hands on his knees and leaning down toward him.  Her head cocks, and she pouts slightly before climbing into his lap.  To steady her, he puts his hands on her hips, and when she’s seating comfortably on his thighs, closer to his knees than to his chest, she reaches for her dress again.  “Stop,” Seokjin says, and her hands drop lamely in front of her, landing on top of Seokjin’s legs.  Her lip sticks out again and trembles slightly.  She looks confused, and Seokjin expects her to question him, to say something, anything.  She stills for a moment before she seems to get another idea, and she leans her chest forward and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt.  He stops her again, though, his hand wrapping easily around her wrist, but instead of stopping she tries to pull away and work on undoing the next button.

           “Hey,” Seokjin says sternly, “relax, little one.  I’m not going to touch you.”  Despite what he thinks, this doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, because the girl almost convulses in his lap.  Her mouth opens and a sound akin to a whine and a cry comes out, startling Seokjin so much he drops her wrist.  With her hand free, she starts to work on his shirt again, but her fingers are shaking so much she can barely get another one undone.  “Stop, please.  What are you doing?”  Her legs tightened around his and she almost flops up and down on him once, a puff of air leaving her mouth in what he thinks is frustration.  “Hey, hey, relax, please.  We don’t need to do anything.  Tell me what’s wrong, yeah?”  She only shakes her head, but her fingers have slowed down, and she holds his third button in them without moving apart from her chest moving up and down.  She’s breathing heavily, and Seokjin risks rubbing a thumb over her hip in an attempt to calm her down.  “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”  She shakes her head.  “Can you,” Seokjin says slowly, “can you say anything?”  He waits for the girl to take a breath and sigh deeply, and by the time she shakes her head another gut-wrenching sound breaks out of her as she starts to sob. Seokjin is, if nothing else, surprised, but he knows there’s no point in asking anything else now, so while she’s pliant, he picks her up easily and carries her to his room.  He can maneuver through it in the dark easily, and he places her on his bed, the covers still undone because he hadn’t bothered to make it that morning.  She curls up a little once she hits the sheets, but she doesn’t look up at him, is perhaps too embarrassed or upset, whether at herself or at him, even when he pulls the cover up to her shoulders.  He doesn’t completely close the door when he leaves his own room and makes a note to himself to take her a glass of water, but on his way to do so he pulls out his phone and calls Yoongi.  The man answers after one ring, his voice gruff as always; Yoongi somehow always sounded like he had just woken up from a nap when he answered Seokjin’s calls, and if he didn’t know the man was a workaholic, he may have believed it.

           “’Sup, boss?”

           “Just need you to wire some money to Nestor tomorrow.”

           “Sure, how much?”

           “One hundred and twenty thousand.  Plus eight-hundred.  And the eight-hundred may be a recurring, daily expense,” Seokjin says, pouring himself another drink and grabbing a glass of water for the girl currently crying in his bed.  He hears Yoongi thinking and judging him on the other end before he even asks,

           “What’s it for?”

           “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

           “This have anything to do with that girl?”

           “Yeah,” Seokjin sighs, not surprised Yoongi was more observant than everyone thinks he is.  “She’s over here.”

          “Oh?  She say anything yet?” Yoongi says, and Seokjin frowns. “Jimin thought it was all an act, playing some innocent girl.  Kookie seemed to think otherwise, said something about Nestor mentioning she can’t talk.”        

           “She can’t,” Seokjin says.  “She can’t talk at all.”

           “Oh,” Yoongi says on the other end.  “Jimin’s going to feel like such an ass.”  Seokjin laughs half-heartedly before hanging up.  He leans on the counter top until the glass he was filling overflows, and he turns off the faucet and waits a few more minutes, listening to the girl crying. He should feel embarrassed, maybe, someone would say, since he hasn’t done what he bought her for, but he feels more ashamed that he’s left her alone to cry.  It’s embarrassing, really, how he doesn’t even go back to check on her until he can tell she has fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems the repetition queen is back. 
> 
> That's me. I'm the repetition queen.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	3. Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I was imaging Seungkwan from Seventeen for the character in this chapter. He has such a sweet little face, aw.
> 
> Okay, what questions have we answered? What questions have arisen?
> 
> Once again not proof read because I have another headache, wth. But I’ll edit later. Enjoy my typos and grammar mistakes, wee.
> 
> Y/N writes things on paper in this chapter, and those words are in italics. 
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks. Mention of suicide (but it’s a metaphor, it’s about a mushroom falling off a pizza, so.)

            You’re confused, and a little disoriented, something border lining on the edge of fear when you wake up.  The bed you’re sleeping in is softer than your cot, and there are multiple pillows under your head.  The edge of one is poking into your neck from where all its feathers have clumped together on one side, and the other one is so soft under your head you feel like you’ve fallen through it.  You’re warm, too, a thick blanket completely covering you.  It’s the dried tears crusting on your face that make you remember where you are.  Plus, the silhouette of a tall man standing in the doorway that makes you bolt upright.  He clears his throat when he sees you’re awake, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off of the door frame.

            “Hey, morning.  Did you sleep alright?”  You nod slowly, trying to moisturize your mouth, but your tongue feels too dry to do anything.  “Hungry?”  You hesitate because he didn’t touch you last night.  You wonder if he’s going to this morning.  After he feeds you.  You’re not sure why he would feed you first, but you nod anyway, feeling particularly starving.  He gestures with his head to follow him, and you wait until he leaves down the hall to get out of his bed, disliking immediately how cold the air feels in comparison to the warmth of the bed.  Seeing the apartment in the light feels like you’re in a completely different place.  It looks bigger and grander, and the light reflecting off of every metal surface leaves you a little disoriented and unsure of where to look, so you watch your bare feet on the wood into the kitchen.  The smell emanating from the huge room is enough to make you feel like you haven’t eaten in days, which is only partially true, and while you’ve never been a fan of drinking coffee, the particular brand Seokjin is brewing reminds you of a coffee shop you used to sit in late at night typing away on your computer trying to finish yet another paper.

            “Want a cup?” he asks you when you pull out a stool to sit in, but you shake your head.  Without asking, he gives you a glass of water that feels too cold initially on your teeth before placing two bowls in front of you.  One seems to resemble chicken soup, and the other is filled with white rice.  You want to ask what it is, why he’s giving you soup for breakfast, but you figure it would be rude, so you keep your mouth shut.  He’s turned away from you again, putting things away in the fridge.  He’s either already eaten or is foregoing breakfast this morning, but he takes another sip of his coffee as you tentatively put a spoonful of rice in the soup. 

            “I have to go to work soon,” he says, leaning back against a counter as he watches you eat.  You’re confused about why he’s feeding you if didn’t even do anything for him yet.  “But you’re welcome to stay here for the day.”  The spoon you were lifting toward your mouth freezes, and you hope the look you’re giving him indicates how confused you are.  Why would he let you stay here?  “Nestor won’t bother you,” he says softly, and you promptly drop your spoon into the bowl.  “Really,” the man says, his eyebrows narrowing.  “You’re safe here.”  You open your mouth, wanting to question him, wanting to thank him, but you only shut it, finding yourself unable to do either.  You try not to grow more frustrated at the fact than you already do.  You had been so frustrated and embarrassed last night in your confusion that you had cried.  You hadn’t cried for weeks, but now that you had you feel wanting to do nothing but sit and cry. 

            “I mean, if you want to stay, you can.  Or I can have Kookie drive you home.”  You jerk a little involuntarily, not because he’s mentioned the boy, but because he said home.  He doesn’t even know what the word means to you.  You wouldn’t even know which address to give him if someone asked you where you lived.  He seems to stir at whatever expression you have on your face, pushing himself off of the counter and putting his cup down to adjust the watch on his wrist.  He’s dressed almost as nice as he well last night in a suit, and you wonder if that was simply how he always dressed.  “You’re welcome to watch TV or any movies.  I have some games, too, but they’re mostly Mario games.  If you know Mario—” he trails off, and you have to smile at him.  You know Mario.  Your younger brother loved everything Nintendo, though he preferred Pokemon and Zelda.  Seokjin seems to calm at your recognition of the title as he continues.  “And there is lot of food in the fridge, so help yourself to anything you need.  And if you need anything, just give me a call.  I’ll leave my number.”  You stand up when he starts to move, causing him to still.  You shake his head at him, and he frowns before he snaps his fingers.  “Oh yeah, no phone.  Okay, well, you can ask the guards if you need anything. They’ll be downstairs.  And they have my number.  I’ll be back before dinner.  So,” he says, pulling on his cuff before nodding once.  You’re not sure why he’s about to leave you, a stranger, in his obviously million-dollar penthouse, and you wonder if you’ve left one prison only to come into another.  At least it is nicer here, you think half-heartedly.  A chive floating on the top of your soup suddenly seems to garner all of your attention, and even when Seokjin clears his throat, you don’t look up, not even when you hear the door shut behind him.  You sit in the silence of this stranger’s apartment, waiting for him to come back in, to take you back to Nestor, to say he was disappointed in you, that he demanded his money back.  But he doesn’t come back.  It’s your all-too bare skin that finally makes you move, opting to wrap a blanket thrown over a couch around you.  The TV confuses you at first, too many remotes and options and choices, but soon you settle down to binge on a new show you hadn’t gotten around to, but you are unable to relax completely.  Your ears perk up at every new sound, and your eyes keep darting to the corners of the rooms, expecting to see some cameras there.  You left your bowl on the counter after breakfast, and you wonder if you’ll get in trouble for leaving it dirty when Seokjin gets home.  Hours later it’s only food and a need for the bathroom that makes you get up, and while you warm something up in the microwave you try not to snoop in the huge bathroom.  But you see the multiple products in the shower and on the counter, no brand you recognize.  You look enough to know or at least assume that Seokjin lives alone, and something about the fact relaxes you.  It would be worse, for you, if he was cheating on someone.  Except he hadn’t bothered to touch you.  And that confused you.

            By the time three o’clock rolled around, you were restless and uncomfortable, still wearing the baby doll outfit that seemed to have unraveled just enough to be constantly itchy in one spot on your lower back.  The apartment had been so quiet, too, that you wondered if anyone else actually lived in the rest of the building.  You couldn’t go walk around in the street, because Seokjin had not said that was allowed, but also because you wouldn’t be considered decent.  But perhaps you could explore the building.  So after borrowing a robe hanging from the back of the bathroom door that was so comfortable you weren’t sure how anything could be so soft, you slipped out of the apartment, helping the door shut behind you.  You knew the whole floor belonged to the apartment, so you headed to the elevator and went down a floor, stepping out temporarily to glance at a few doors to gather that the building was pretty much like any other apartment building.  There were four to eight doors on each floor, more doors the further down you got, and two elevators in the hallways.  There was a stairway for emergencies, but it only went to the lobby, and there were fire escapes on both sides of the building, but apart from those, the only entry and exit ways were through the front lobby or parking garage.  You also realize, too late, that there is a card or code needed to get back to the top floor.  Cursing internally, you reluctantly push the button for the garage.  You had seen two guards there last night when you arrived, and there were two there now, though you’re not sure if they are the same men.  They’re both alert enough to look at the doors the second they open, and even though you drop your eyes quickly, you don’t miss the way their eyebrows both shoot up or the way they exchange a glance as you approach.

            “Hey doll,” one of them says, the nickname sounding sick under your see-through, sorry excuse for a “dress.”  “Need something?”  You do, so you look up at them and open your mouth.  They don’t look like thugs.  They’re both very handsome, in fact, and well-dressed.  One of them has a soft, round face, and the other one looks scarier, but only because of the smirk on his face that melts away when his friend nudges him.

            “She can’t talk, remember?”

            “Oh yeah,” the man says, turning sheepishly too quickly.  “Do you, uh, need something?” he tries again, but this time with his hands moving oddly in front of him.

            “Not deaf, you idiot,” the soft one says, smacking the other’s arm.

            “Oh, right.”

            “Swear that punch messed you up,” he mutters before shooting you a smile.  “Do you, though?  Need something?”  You open your mouth again before mimicking the sign language man, trying to indicate that you needed to go up to the apartment but needed the code or key.  “Oh,” the man thankfully says, somehow understanding.  “Oh yeah, you need the code.  Right, I can do that for you.  Come on.”  He motions for you to follow, and as the other man gives you a wary smile, perhaps a bit embarrassed, you smile back before following his round-faced friend back into the elevator.  He takes to tapping on his leg and humming something on the way up, and when the doors open he pulls out his phone, sending you a smile as you walk back down the hallway toward Seokjin’s door.  You feel like a great inconvenience, and only grow more worried when you hear the man say “boss.”  Standing awkwardly by the door, you try not to listen, but it proves impossible, so you stare at the ground while you wait.

            “Yeah, boss,” the man is saying, “she’s alright, just got locked out of the place….Yeah….Yes sir, will do.”  He shoots you another smile, one that is a little goofy, when the door swings open.  He steps halfway through, keeping it open for you, and looks around the place as you walk in.  “No sir,” he says.  “Okay, let me ask.  Hey, Y/N,” he says, causing you to turn, surprised for a second that he knows your name, “do you need anything else?”  You do.  You want to get dressed, wear some actual clothes.  So you open your mouth, but can only huff and lick your lips.  “Boss,” he says, a compassion in his voice that rattles you a little, “I think she does, but I’m not sure what it is…Do what?  Oh, okay.  Hey,” he says again to you, pulling the phone a little away from his mouth, “can you show me what you need?”  Maybe.  Hopefully.  You think for a second, trying to pick between two options, and decide on the one that is closest, pulling your robe off.  The man absolutely flushes and flies a hand to his eyes as he stutters into the phone.  “B-boss, she’s…I swear I didn’t tell her to…No sir, I didn’t do anything, she’s...She’s…I don’t know how to say this, boss…Okay, she’s just wearing underwear…Oh…Okay, sir.  Hey, Y/N?” the man says, peeking at you through his fingers.  It’s almost comical, but his refusal to look at you is almost endearing.  “Do you want some clothes?”  You nod and smile at that, relieved he, or Seokjin, has finally figured it out.  “She says yes, sir…Okay.  Okay, Y/N, boss says to put whatever you want on, okay?”  You nod again and give him a little bow, pulling your robe back on and heading toward Seokjin’s bedroom.  You don’t bother to hear the rest of the man’s conversation, though you do hear him calling to you once you’re in Seokjin’s room.  “I’m going to leave now, okay?  I’m Seungkwan, by the way.  If you need anything else, let me know.  Even though I get off at four.  I’ll be back tomorrow.”  His kindness confuses you a little, though you are grateful for it and wish you knew more people who were so quick to help people, so you poked your head back out of Seokjin’s doorway to see him still standing there.  Giving him a smile and a wave, you wait until he returns them before he leaves. 

            Seokjin, you knew, even though you’re only really faced with the fact once you open his drawers, was a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular man.  He liked fancy clothes and for things to be organized and neat.  Sighing, you knew there was no way any of his pants would fit you, even those with elastic waists, so you opted for a simple tee, slipping it on and smiling at how it almost came to your knees.  The sight is odd, but you feel better already, and are quick to return to the couch and keep watching TV.  You haven’t had the chance to not worry about time in a long time, and not caring how long you had been watching TV was foreign but something you slipped back into easily.  It was only Netflix’s obnoxiously insulting “Are you still watching?” messages and your stomach growling again that made you look at the clock.  You were surprised to see it was almost seven, and maybe Seokjin was used to eating dinner late, but he had said he would be back before dinner, and that wasn’t looking likely.  Cooking was something that, much to your mother’s dismay, you had never had a knack for.  Perhaps it was stereotypical, but you had survived for the past four years on going to as many events as possible that offered free food, using coupons and reward points for free meals, and eating a lot of ramen.  Besides, messing around in someone else’s kitchen, especially one that probably cost more than your entire college education, was not something you were comfortable doing.  You’ve gotten used, in the past five weeks, to not eating three meals a day, though, so you don’t mind going hungry.  You’re just growing anxious the later it gets, and it’s not until after eight that the door opens and Seokjin comes in.  He’s carrying a bag on his arm now, and he stills when he enters, staring at you across the apartment as if he has forgotten you were there.

            “Hi,” he says, and you wave weakly at him.  “I am very late,” he continues, proceeding to dump the bag, full of ingredients, on one of the kitchen’s counters.  “Sorry about that.  How was your day?”  Before you can even try to respond, he frowns and closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead.  “Sorry, I need to eat before I do anything else.  Low blood sugar.”  You nod even if he isn’t looking at you and pad over to sit on a stool.  He’s removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and there’s something soothing about watching him work in the quiet.  He has a control over the knife he’s wielding like a professional, and he isn’t looking at a recipe, the meal perhaps a favorite or one he’s making up.  Everything you had eaten today indicated he knew what he was doing.  Like his clothes, he seemed to like good food and wasted no expense on getting the best cuts of meat and the freshest ingredients.  He becomes so engrossed in stirring and seasoning that you think he forgets again that you’re there, his shoulders jumping a little when he turns around to see you watching him.  “Jesus,” he mutters.  “You’re really quiet.”  You bite your lip when he puts the entire pan in front of you, turning back around to get utensils and plates out for you both, wishing you could say something.  You even open your mouth but only succeed in taking a few deep breaths.  “Hey,” he says when he perhaps notices you struggling, “it’s okay.  Just not used to someone being here.  Did you watch TV today?” he says as he dishes you out some food, and you nod, thankful for “yes” or “no” questions.  “And Seungkwan helped you?”  Another nod.  “Good, good.”  And then he eats, the conversation over for the time being.  You eat slowly while he seems to only savor a couple of bites before he’s rushing.  You wonder if he has older siblings, if he grew up poor, if he feels the need to finish quickly so no one else steals his food.  He also eats enough for two or three people.  You wonder if he would have finished the whole pan by himself if you weren’t there.  He doesn’t admonish you for leaving your dishes out from earlier but cleans up wordlessly.  “Do you want a drink?” he asks at some point as he’s drying your hands, but you shake your head.  “Are you twenty-one?” he says, trying to piece things together.  You nod, and he hums.  “Alright.  Go sit on the couch, okay?  I’ll be there in just a second.”  You nod, the warm food in your stomach turning already.  You rationalize that he wants you now, for some reason now instead of last night, and the thought of returning so soon to Nestor’s place makes you a little frantic.  Still, you remove Seokjin’s shirt quickly, ignoring the chill rising on you arms and sit on your legs on the couch, your hands fiddling with the edge of your dress, and your head snaps up when you hear Seokjin’s heavy tread coming back into the living room.  He stills again in the doorway, frowning at you, which only makes you confused and more worried.

            “What are you doing?” he says, walking into the room and squatting down next to the table in front of you.  “Put that shirt back on, okay?”  You blink at him before sighing lightly, reaching for the discarded garment and slipping it back over your head.  “Thank you,” he says once your head’s emerged again as he slides something over to you.  “Now, my friend Jimin, the blonde haired, short one, you’ve probably seen before, suggested this, so I thought we could try it.”  There’s a notepad and a pen in front of you, and you almost weep at the simplicity of it.  “So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask you a few questions, and you can write the answers down here.  Would you like to do that?”  You don’t even care that you feel like you’re being treated a little like a child, you tremble when you nod and reach for the paper and pen, holding them both securely before staring at him.  He’s smiling at you and leans on the coffee table as he begins.  “Okay, easy one.  What’s your name?”  You write quickly and show him.  “Nice to meet you, Y/N Y/L/N, I’m Kim Seokjin.”  He sticks his hand out and you almost laugh as you shake it.  “Maybe you’ve heard of me?”  Instinctively, you shake your head before scribbling sorry on the paper.  He laughs, his whole head thrown back.  “Oh well, I guess I’m slacking lately.  Anyway, you can’t speak, but you’re not deaf.  Were you born mute?”  You shake your head quickly and write down a solid _no_ for extra clarity.  Seokjin seems to think for a moment before wording his next question, and you tap the pen on the paper while waiting.  “What happened?  Were you injured?”  Not exactly.  But you don’t write anything, because you aren’t sure how to explain, if you can or should.  He seems to recognize your hesitation, even if he is confused.  “Can you tell me how long you’ve worked for Nestor?” he tries, and you proceed to write _five weeks_.  “And what did you do before?”  _College_ , you put simply.  “Oh?  So how old are you?”  _Twenty-two,_ you write, remembering your belated party that summer combined with one celebrating your graduation.  “So why are you working for Nestor?”  You do not, can not, answer that question yet, even though the pen hits the paper, some part of you desperate to tell him.  The action makes you fling the pad and pen away, though, trying to get away from the truth, and scramble off of the couch toward Seokjin.  He reacts too slowly, and you’re already halfway over his legs by the time he sits up, putting his hand out to stop you.

            “Whoa, little one, slow down,” he says, his hand on your shoulder keeping you back.  You don’t listen, though, and run your hands up his thighs and try to fiddle with his belt, but he is much stronger than you and stops you with little finesse.  Shrugging him off, you huff and crawl to find the pad you had thrown.  You toss it to him when you’re done, and he frowns down at it.  _Bought me_ , it says, and Seokjin sighs when he looks at you.  “Are you really a virgin?”  You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest.   “I should punish Nestor for false advertisement, huh?”  Even though Nestor had clearly been nervous around Seokjin, the idea of antagonizing your boss scares you enough for you to shake your head hard. “Okay, it’s alright.  What’s wrong, little one?”  You point to _bought me_ again, and Seokjin can only sigh again.  “I don’t pay for people to have sex with me.  If you really want to, and really want to go back to Nestor’s, we can.”  You sit still, though, resting on your knees on the floor with your hands in your lap again, and that seems like answer enough to him.  “There we are, then.  Now, I’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you’re tired, too, so I’d suggest we go to bed.  Try not to throw this again, okay?” he says, handing you the pad back before he stands up.  You nod slowly and look at your lap until his hand comes into your vision.  He wiggles his fingers at you and you take them hesitantly, almost losing your balance as he pulls you up.  Holding the paper and pen tightly against your chest, you follow him toward his room and wait in the doorway as he moves to the bathroom.  He comes back with a small bag and opens up a few drawers, and when he’s done he lifts an eyebrow at you.  “Everything okay?”  You scribble something on the pad and show it to him in the dim light.  _Guest room._ “No, no, you stay here.  Sleep well.”  You realize you’re blocking his way and step aside perhaps too slowly, hanging your head.  You think, for a second, that he is going to say something else, but he passes by you, leaving you alone once again in his room.  You aren’t crying this time, but you develop a headache before you fall asleep, fear, embarrassment, guilt, and frustration all creating a confusing storm within you.

 

            It’s the smell of food that wakes you up again the next morning, plus the extreme need for a shower, in addition to the fear that has been your constant bed companion for the past several weeks.  You flinch as soon as your eyes open, expecting to see Nestor standing over you, but you’re alone in the dark room, not even Miah or Bell’s eyes staring back at you.  The loss of the friends you had been forced to make so quickly grieves you for the first time.  You wonder if they miss you, if they are doing okay, if you will see them again soon, if Nestor has been harder on them since you have been gone.  A feeling of extreme selfishness and thus guilt comes over you, and you struggle to get out of bed, its comfortableness making you itch.  Remembering to grab the pad Seokjin had given you, you yawn on the way to the kitchen, not surprised to see him already dressed and cooking like the morning before.  He doesn’t seem to jump this time upon seeing you, just sends you a small smile.

            “Morning,” he says, and you smile back in politeness.  He is quiet as you both eat, perhaps needing the coffee he drinks seriously as he watches you intently.  “I have to go to work again,” he says when you’re done, “but I thought my friend Jimin could come over to talk to you.   He’s a psychologist, trained and certified and licensed and everything.  But even before all of that he was a good listener.  I just thought he could keep you company?”  You feel like he was thinking something else, thinking that he didn’t get answers out of you so his friend might, but you aren’t going to refuse him, so you write a quick _ok_ on your pad.  “Great!  I promise I’ll be back before dinner today.”  He flashes you a smile before drowning the rest of his coffee, wincing a bit at the bitterness or heat of it sliding down his throat, and grabs a jacket hanging on the back of a chair to throw on.  “Take care, Y/N,” he says before leaving.  You really want a shower, and when Jimin and someone else arrive a few hours later with a bag, you almost cry when the boy you don’t even know says,

            “Brought you some clothes so you could shower.  Please don’t ask why I have these,” he smiles, walking past you and making himself at home.

            “Hello,” the other man, whom you recognize from the club, his bright red hair even brighter in front of you in the light, “I’m Hoseok.  Sorry for the intrusion.”  You shake your head and shut the door, peering in the bag.  “They’re his,” Hoseok whispers, looking across the room to make sure Jimin doesn’t here.  “But all new, unworn.  Promise.”  Closing the bag at the comment, you bite your lip and turn on your heels, only pausing to pick up the pad from where you had left it on the counter, writing a quick note to pass to Jimin on the way out of the living room.  Your _brb_ makes you feel twelve again, and Jimin chuckles when he sees the pad.

            “I see Seokjin has reached a whole new level of communication skills with you.”  You ignore him, though, hurrying to shower partially due to how gross you feel but also because you do not want to keep them waiting.  You can’t help but linger a little, though, the shower big enough for six people and the water pressure akin to someone giving you a light-touch massage.  You decide Seokjin will surely let you shower again later if you’d like and hurry to dress.  You pause only once you have slipped on a clean pair of underwear from the bag, deciding not to ask, as he had instructed, why he had any that fit you, even if they were a little loose.  There wasn’t a bra in the bag, so you decided to go without, picking a blue sweater and black shorts out of the bag to slip on.  It’s the color of the sweater that makes you pause and finally look at yourself in the mirror.  You’ve been avoiding it for a few days now even though the bruise on your cheek had disappeared days ago.  The sweater covers up one on your arm, but you see your eyes, unnaturally blue, and reach into them immediately to pull out the contacts.  Your eyes blink rapidly at the sudden dryness, and you know Nestor will be mad about you losing these, but you don’t care at the moment, peeling them off of your fingers as quickly as you can. 

            Jimin and Hoseok have, as you figured they would, made themselves at home, snuggled up close to each other on the couch when you come back into the living room.  They both smile at you, a pair of wide and warm smiles, and say nothing.  They’re watching some show you’ve never seen on the TV, and while you’re confused, wondering when Jimin will start asking you questions, you sit in a chair beside them and curl up to watch with them.  They’re mostly quiet, though Hoseok seems to spook easily, and Jimin seems to laugh easily.  At one point they whisper exclusively to each other, their eyes so trained on each other you imagine they would be whispering even if you weren’t in the room.  They don’t speak to you for hours, and you aren’t sure if you’re annoyed and mad or relieved and comfortable in their presence.  You think that Jimin might be trying to do something, though you aren’t sure what.  When the doorbell rings, Hoseok hops up to get it, and you lean forward enough to see Seungkwan holding two pizza boxes.  He waves past the red head at you, and you wave back, getting up to greet him, but Hosoek is closing the door in the man’s face once he takes the food from him.  You suck at your bottom lip before watching Jimin rummage around in the kitchen to find plates.

            “So you know Seungkwan already, huh?” Jimin says, not turning around as he opens another cabinet.

            “Yeah,” you say, stomach growling aggressively as Hoseok opens up a box.

            “Hobi, hun?” Jimin says, standing back with his hands on his hips.  “Can you reach the plates for us?”

            “Jimin, darling, you’re not that short,” Hoseok says, though he hops over quickly to help.

            “I am not.  Seokjin is just abnormally tall,” Jimin pouts, sitting down and patting a stool by him.  “He’s a nice guy,” Jimin says, and you cock your head as you sit near him, not sure who he’s referring.  “Seungkwan,” he clarifies.  “So nice I’m not sure why he works for Seokjin, but who am I to judge.  So, Seokjin said you went to college.  Did you finish?”  He’s not looking at you as he fills his plate with pizza, and you glance at your pad abandoned on the coffee table in the living room as you nod.  “Did you?”  Jimin says again, staring at you now as he starts to eat.  You nod again, grabbing a slice, but by the time you blow on it and risk a bite, Jimin is asking again, “Did you finish college?”  Staring at him over your limp slice of pizza, you frown before nodding again.  “Yes or no?”  You open your mouth and breathe out heavily, understanding now what he was doing.  You nod again, though, and the man took another bite, raising his eyebrows at you.  “Hoseok,” he says, turning to his boyfriend, “did you finish college?”

            “Yes.  Hell yes, I may say, and thank riddance.”

            “It’s good riddance, or thank god, but I hear you.  Congratulations,” Jimin beams as Hoseok does, too, and you’re confused now, because surely Jimin already knows that Hoseok graduated. 

            “Do you know if Seungkwan did?”

            “No.  He’s young.”

            “Do you know how old he is?”

            “No, but Seokjin surely does.  You know he’s at least over eighteen,” Hoseok says, contemplating as he eats another piece of pizza.

            “Did you ask how old he was, Y/N?” Jimin says, and you shake your head slowly when he looks at you.  He smiles sweetly.  “Do you know how old he is?”  Another head shake, and your brow furrows a little.  “You didn’t find out how old he is?”  No.  No, you didn’t.  You don’t know how old he is.  Why does it matter?  “Yes or no, Y/N.”  He says it calmly and patiently, but you reach for another piece of pizza, your chest tight.  “May I ask you another question?”  He doesn’t wait for you to respond, though, as he continues.  “Did you know that you said something earlier?”  There’s a mushroom on your pizza that is threatening to commit suicide that suddenly demands all of your attention.  “You said ‘yeah’ when I asked if you knew Seungkwan.  Did you notice?”  You drop your hand onto your plate, the edge of it lifting up like a seesaw before crashing back down with a clatter on the counter.  Your lip starts to tremble.  “It’s okay,” Jimin says softly, reaching his hand out to put on the counter near you.  “You did very good.”  You half cough, half hiccup before you start crying, and before your eyes are completely filled with tears you see Jimin look at Hoseok once before the red head is reaching for his phone.  “Okay, Y/N, you did well,” Jimin shushes, standing up.  “Come sit down now, yeah?”  He puts a hand on your shoulder to help guide you back to the couch, and it only feels right when he pulls you in to lean on his shoulder.  He runs his hand up and down your arm while you shake and sob, lets you become a complete mess before you crash, and when you start to fizzle out, he starts to speak again, wiping your face with his own sleeve.  “You’re alright,” he repeats over and over again.  “‘Yeah’ is a great word, yeah?  It works for ‘yes’ and lets people know if you agree with them.  Yeah?” he says to demonstrate, and you laugh, though it comes out more like a garbled cough than anything else.  “Yeah, it’s a good word.  It’s your word now, too, yeah?  You can say it as much as you want, yeah?  Yeah?”

            “Yeah,” you say, hearing yourself this time, and shuddering uncontrollably at how hoarse your voice is, at how odd it sounds after all this time, the tiny word vibrating up your throat and through your mouth like all of the air had been punched out of your lungs.

            “Yeah,” Jimin says again, patting your head.  “Good job.”

            “Yeah,” you whisper again, closing your eyes.  You’re too drained now to feel much or think much, and you may have even gone to sleep, but the front door flies open, and you already recognize Seokjin’s heavy footsteps coming through the apartment, another, unknown person trailing behind him.  When you open your eyes, your lashes trying to cling to each other from the lingering tears, Seokjin and his driver, Jungkook, are standing in front of you, the younger boy standing behind his boss with his hands in his pockets.  There’s something about his stance and the look on your face that makes you hide your face against Jimin’s arm, but he starts to sit up, leaving you to prop yourself up on the couch albeit a little shakily.

            “She learned a new word today,” Jimin says, stretching as he talks to Seokjin.  Seokjin glances at his friend once before smiling at you.

            “Yeah?  Is that right, little one?”

            “Yeah,” you manage, and while it sounds like a yell in your ears, you know it’s barely a whisper.  Still, Seokjin beams at you.

            “She needs new clothes,” Jimin says, interrupting.

            “I know,” Seokjin says, still smiling at you.  “I’ll take her tomorrow.  Would you like that, Y/N?”

            “Yeah,” you nod.

            “Okay, little one, we’ll go shopping,” he says, turning to pat Jimin on the arm.  “Thank you.”

            “No worries,” Jimin shrugs.  “Though I think it would help if I came over again.  She needs to trust me, and that will take time.”

            “She’s not deaf,” Jungkook says gruffly, and you appreciate him saying so, because Jimin was talking like you weren’t there or didn’t know what was going on.

            “No,” Jimin says, turning to smile back at you.  “And she’s not mute, either.  Right, Y/N?  At least not by birth or permanently.  She can talk.  She’s just forgotten how to for the time.”

            “What do you mean?” Seokjin says.

            “I mean, unless she had some brain injury without her realizing it, it’s all psychological.  For some reason, she does not feel comfortable speaking right now.  So be patient with her until we figure out why that is.  She needs a lot of modeling,” Jimin says, wiggling his fingers at Hoseok for his boyfriend to take his hand.  “Which means asking her a lot of questions and demonstrating how to answer them.  She should re-learn ‘yes’ and ‘no’ first, though ‘yeah’ is an acceptable equivalent.”

            “So, she can speak again?” Seokjin says.  Jimin only nods, pulling in Hoseok for a side hug and sighing into his shoulder.

            “Yeah.  But she’s afraid.  My bet is it has something to do with Nestor.  But you can’t rush these things.”

            “Of course,” Seokjin says, nodding.

            “You got all that, Y/N?” Jimin says, his tone kind and encouraging.

            “Yeah,” you whisper.

            “You’re safe with Seokjin,” Jimin says seriously.  “He’s protecting you.  You can trust him.  And all of us.  We’ll help you figure out how to talk again if you want our help.  Do you?  Do you want our help?”

            “Yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  You’re confused about why they all seem to care so much, but yeah, yeah you will gladly accept their help, that one tiny word a promise of finally going home, of finally being free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, friend Jimin is like, the best. I guess I will just always write him like this. Oops. Not sorry?
> 
> Okay, so, is the not speaking makin’ sense now?
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	4. Conflicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again not proof read because I have yet another headache.
> 
> There’s a lot of sarcasm in this chapter when it’s Jungkook’s perspective. Things like “he’s not interested at all” which you have to read as “he’s not interested at all, nooOOOOoooo.” Hopefully that comes through haha.
> 
> A really short chapter. 
> 
> I italicized things Y/N wrote down.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks.

           Jungkook is conflicted, if he had to put a word to how he felt about driving Y/N to his boss’ house so he could…Well.  He isn’t jealous, just conflicted. 

           Because leaving her with his boss for a specific reason meant he, before he could stop himself, can imagine what Seokjin would do with her, how he would undress her and give her that stare he sometimes gave Jungkook that oozed confidence and control, how she would surely please him.  He’s not jealous.  He’s glad, too, because Seokjin takes care of people.  And he does it well.  She will be safe.  So he’s glad. But when she’s still there two days, Jungkook is confused as to why she hasn’t gone back to Nestor’s.  He’s worried, wondering what Seokjin did or didn’t do, or what she did or didn’t do, but still glad, because ultimately he knows she is still safe.  But he wants to see her or be there for her, too, or something.  Seeing how happy she is over learning one little word, or saying one little word, makes him feel some sense of pride in her that he doesn’t think he is allowed, but it leaves him unsatisfied, wanting to hear her say more. He is glad Jimin thinks she can learn to speak again, but he wants to know right now why she isn’t talking in the first place.  He is anything but patient with most things.  But he keeps his mouth shut behind his boss, and he isn’t jealous at how happy she looks at him, isn’t thinking about what they did, isn’t thinking about why Seokjin’s keeping her around.  He isn’t jealous.  He just wants her to look at him like that instead of ducking her head and shying away from him. He gets it.  It is a little awkward.  But it’s her job.  He wishes it wasn’t.  He’s.

           He’s conflicted.  Jungkook is conflicted.

           He’s conflicted when Seokjin tells him to pick them up the next day at ten so they can go shopping.  It’s not the job that makes him torn, because he’ll obey Seokjin and wants to please him, and if driving him is what does that, then his job is easy.  It’s when Seokjin tells him he needs to come with them, to help keep an eye on the girl, that makes him conflicted.  He doesn’t want her to feel trapped or like he’s keeping her there.  Jungkook knows Seokjin is more concerned about somebody bothering her than her suddenly disappearing, but there’s no way of knowing if the girl knows that.  He’s conflicted when they come downstairs and she’s still wearing that ginormous sweater that barely covers the shorts Jimin gave her, because he thinks of wearing Jimin wearing it for a moment and that image makes him a little repulsed, and while she looks small and cute, he thinks of her in his lap again, and he has to not look at her, which is confusing because he also wants to only look at her.  He steals glances in the rearview mirror until he notices Seokjin watching and keeps his eyes on the road.  The girl is quiet, and Jungkook feels dumb for thinking that, but he wonders how the two have co-existed for the past few days.  Not that Seokjin was home much, but he wasn’t a talker or a listener but a converser.  Jungkook can’t imagine what having someone around like Y/N around is like for his boss.  He knows it must be frustrating and exhausting, and he knows this because he’s never been exactly talkative around the older man, even when Seokjin tries to converse with him.  It’s different with Jimin and the others, he knows, because they were Seokjin’s friends first.  Jungkook barely knew him when he started working for him, and becoming friends with his boss doesn’t seem allowed for some reason.  Part of him knows Seokjin actually does care, because that’s just his nature, but he knows the kinds of questions Seokjin asks others and the motive behind them. The more he knows, the more power and control he has over you.  So Jungkook has always managed to get away with not telling his boss much about his personal life.  Seokjin knows where he lives, though, and that he lives alone, knows where he went to school and what his family’s like, and Jungkook isn’t sure if there’s really anything else the man needs to know to have more leverage on him.  So he keeps his eyes on the road and drives them to the mall.  He keeps his hands in his pockets or behind him or uses them to open and close doors. When Seokjin says something about going to a store by himself and for Jungkook to stay with the girl, Jungkook is conflicted, because he wants to be alone with her, but he’s worried about being alone with her.  

           Jungkook is just conflicted.

           But the girl seems happy to see him, even if her eyes are flickering around a lot, especially when Seokjin leaves.  She’s holding this yellow pad of paper with a pen attached to it tightly, presumably because she doesn’t have pockets, and Jungkook knows he’s going to have to ask her where she wants to go first, because she is watching people go past them and scooting closer and closer to him, inch by inch, as they do.

           “Where do you want to go first?” he finally says, watching the top of her head. She had taken her blue contacts out, and he frankly thinks she looks better without them, but the top of her head is still ink black.  She scribbles something on the pad and lifts it up to him without looking at him  _never been here before_.  “Ah,” he says, intrigued by how she wrote in all caps.  “Well, you can just walk around if you want, or we can find a directory.”   _Walk_ she writes, but she doesn’t move.  “Want me to, uh, lead?”  She nods, looking up at him, then, and he wants to look away but also smile at her.  She seems to remember she knows a word, and she adds it proudly for good measure,

           “Yeah.”

           “Alright,” he says, “stay close.”  He figures it was the right thing to say, but he wasn’t really expecting her to do it. She trails behind him, her head looking around at each store, following so closely if he stopped she’d immediately run into him, her shoulder already occasionally rubbing against his arm. She finally stops in a particular store that is entirely too pink for Jungkook’s taste, and he does not want to go in it, because men only went in this store for certain reasons.  If you just perused, you were a pervert.  If you came in and bought something, everyone will know what you like and what your plans are.  And if you come in with a girl, people will assume you are in a relationship and shopping together.  Jungkook can remember the three times he has ever shopped with a girl as an adult, all with his girlfriend in college who lasted seven months, and none of them were pleasant.  Maybe that was purely the company, and maybe shopping with this quiet girl won’t be as traumatizing, just Jungkook is pretty sure it will be.  Besides, the girl looks equally embarrassed, and Jungkook wishes she wasn’t.  They’re necessities.  She needs underwear.  That’s all it was.  Underwear Jungkook would see before Seokjin.  That doesn’t make him feel smug, more guilty than anything else.  He’ll just keep his head down and pay when she’s done, but he bleats out first,

           “His favorite color is pink.  Well, and blue.”  The girl’s already moving through drawers, but she looks at him for a second, a little confused before she understands.  Jungkook can tell she wants to say something, because her mouth opens and she wets her lips, but then she writes on her notepad instead.  Texting has always been awkward for Jungkook, because doesn’t like being unable to see the person or read their facial expressions.  There’s something about the notepad being handed to him that feels like texting with someone who is right in front of him, and it’s familiar but disorienting all at the same time.  _What’s yours?_

           “Black,” he says and watches as her fingers write on the paper that he’s still holding  _classic_.  She turns away, leaving him holding the paper, and he does not feel interested or pleased at all when the first bra she picks out is black.  Black is functional, and everyone needs a black bra.  Not that Jungkook would know.  He is beyond relieved that she doesn’t ask or make him hold anything, even though at one point he almost offers because her hands seem too full, but he holds her notepad instead.  His absolute worst nightmare comes true when an employee comes toward them, because the girl won’t be able to answer, and he isn’t sure he’ll be able to, either.  The first question is simple.

           “Hi! Are you finding everything you need?”

           “Yes,” Jungkook says, not even looking at the girl for confirmation. The second question is annoying, because his first answer clearly didn’t steer her away well enough.

           “Are you sure I can’t help you find anything?”

           “Yep, all good,” he almost huffs, and surely this saleswoman needs to brush up on her non-verbal communication skills, because she hasn’t left yet despite Jungkook’s stance and tone and lack of eye contact and the fact that the girl he’s with hasn’t said a word yet.  The third question is too pointed, clearly directed only toward the girl holding a copious amount of underwear in her hands.

           “You sure there’s nothing I can do for you, sweetie?”  Before he even lets the girl answer, he bleats again, his panic rising.

           “She’s deaf.”

           “Oh,” the saleswoman says, smiling uncomfortably, and for a moment Jungkook is afraid she’s going to somehow know sign language or knows a co-worker who does and Jungkook will just go from slightly bothered to full-blown embarrassed, but she thankfully only smiles a little wider and looks at him, instead.  “It’s a good thing she has such a handsome boyfriend looking out for her.  You let me know if you need any help.”  Jungkook’s not sure what’s between slightly bothered and full-blown embarrassed, but he’s confident he’s there now as the lady walks away.  The girl beside him keeps her lips pressed together until she disappears before she bursts out laughing.  The noise startles Jungkook, but he can only blink as she calms down.

           “You have a beautiful laugh,” he says without thinking.  “You should do it more often.”  The way that she covers her mouth and looks at him makes him afraid he’s said the wrong thing, but when she removes her hand, she’s smiling, and he remembers why he doesn’t like texting, because seeing what his words did to people was much more enjoyable and satisfying.  

 

           You feel a little conflicted as you try things on.  You’re not afraid to spend Seokjin’s money, because he clearly has plenty, but you are worried you won’t get to take anything with you whenever he was done with you.  And you’re buying things for yourself, but also for him.  Because he will see them eventually.  That’s why he bought you, or borrowed you, after all.    So you do pick out a couple of pink sets per Jungkook’s suggestion that you normally wouldn’t have gotten.  They are pretty, just not exactly your style.  None of this is, really.  But you had a part to play for the time being, so you went for the lace and the frills and the sheer and the delicate.  You still felt a little odd when Jungkook swiped a card for you, but the saleswoman didn’t care who was paying, just glad to see you leave with several bags, and you wanted to carry them so the boy wouldn’t, clearly already embarrassed, but he doesn’t let you, exchanging your bags for your notepad as you walk through the rest of the mall.  You need actual clothes now and find your favorite store, eager to find blue jeans and flannel.  Jungkook acts surprised when you smile widely, bringing up a flannel shirt and rubbing it against his face.

           “Didn’t peg you for a flannel girl,” he says, which is disheartening, because he doesn’t know you at all, and he’s judging you based on the minimal clothes, if they could even be called such, that he’s seen you in.  You love flannel and have never cared if anyone called you a lumberjack.  Flannel was fashionable and comfortable.  You find a few beanies, too, something about covering up your dyed hair restoring a bit of yourself like nothing else has so far.  You’re a little annoyed when Seokjin still hasn’t returned, though you are enjoying time with the younger boy.  After a couple of hours, he begins checking his phone often until he finally puts it away to address you where you’re looking at a pair of boots you can’t decide if you want to add to the pile.

           “Seokjin’s ready to meet with us when you’re done.”  You nod to let him know you’ve heard and hurry to finish buying shoes, not a heel in sight in your bags, before following Jungkook to wherever his boss was waiting.  He’s in an Apple store, the glaring whiteness of the store making him easy to spot.  He was the most casual you had seen him so far but is still wearing a pair of slacks and a plain gray and blue striped sweater. He smiles when he sees you and Jungkook enter the store, peeking into the bags you’re carrying before tapping on the table in front of him.

           “So, I got you a phone, and it’s all set up now.  Also a laptop, because the internet is sadly a necessity these days, both blessing and a curse.  Have you had an Apple before?”  You shake your head, struck by the gifts.  “Well, let me know if you have any questions, then.  Though I might still have to ask Namjoon.  He’s a pro with all of this,” Seokjin says, waving his hand across the store.  “So, did you get everything you needed?”  You look at the bag he’s holding up to you, boxes for a brand new laptop and phone sticking up over the top, and the bags Jungkook’s holding, and the bags weighing your own arms down.  You put them down quickly for a moment to hastily write something, but Seokjin only frowns and chuckles at your words:  _it’s too much._

           “Nonsense, little one, you needed clothes.”   _Don’t deserve it,_ you write, but Seokjin only shakes his head and reaches down to pick up the bags you had put down.  “It’s not a matter of deserving, Y/N.  Just necessities.  Did she buy anything that she didn’t need, Kookie?”

           “No boss,” the boy says quickly.

           “There we go then,” Seokjin says, smiling softly at you.  “Kookie knows all about extravagant spending because he doesn’t do it.  Boy wears the same three t-shirts over and over again.  It makes it look like I don’t pay him well.”

           “I don’t, sir,” Jungkook protests, but Seokjin only winks at you as he leaves the store.  You try to help Jungkook with the bags before you follow Seokjin, but he doesn’t allow it, so you only hold tight to your Apple bag and walk alongside Jungkook.  His boss walks fast and has long legs, so you’re far enough away for him to not hear Jungkook mutter, “He pays me well. I can spend money if I want to. Just prefer to save it.  Never know when you might need it.”

           “Yeah,” you say, looking down into your bag again.  “Yeah.”

           

           You’re not sure what to wear that night after dinner and a shower, everything spread out on your bed before you to ponder over.  Seokjin has finally moved you to the guest room, but only because he said you needed the space for your clothes now.  In the end you settle on one of the pink sets; it’s intricate and pretty enough to surely be interesting, the little bows cute but suggestive.  You throw a robe on but don’t bother to tie it. You find Seokjin in a chair, reading. He has a pair of glasses on that you’ve never seen, and something about them makes him seem even older and more mature, but not at all in unattractive way.  He’s still in his clothes from earlier, apart from his shoes, and he’s sipping occasionally on a glass of wine.  The page he’s turning moves slower when he sees you in the doorway, and the way he looks over the edge of his glasses makes you fight, his stare making you feel like you were in trouble for something.

           “Everything okay?”

           “Yeah,” you say, rocking back and forth a few times and pressing your lips together before making your way across the room.  He’s put his glass down, but you take his book from his hands, placing it gingerly on the end table, hoping he wouldn’t be mad about losing his place. He watches you closely, his eyebrows raised, as you remove your robe.  There’s no denying the way he looks you up and down, so, spurred on, you straddle his hips, sinking down onto his thighs and intertwining your hands behind his neck.

           “What are you doing, little one?” he says softly, and you try not to sigh in frustration.  You fiddle with the hair at the back of his neck, observing the perfect slant of his eyes, the deep indent of skin under his nose, his particularly thick lower lip and begin to lean close.  “Y/N,” he warns, and you move a hand to grab one of his, placing it on your bare thigh.

           “Where’s your phone?  Use it to write me a message, yeah?” he says, and you sigh and pout, because your phone is in your room, and you haven’t even spent any time getting used to it yet. He reaches for his own and swipes it unlocked, pulling up something before handing it to you.  “Here, use mine.”  _I just want to thank you_ , you write, whirling it around into his face when you’re done.

           “Not like this,” he says, and you sit up straight on his legs, taking his phone back and typing furiously.   _Then why am I here?_

           “Do you want to be here?” Seokjin says, and since the alternative seems to be Nestor’s, you nod.

           “Yeah,” you say.

           “I don’t believe you,” he says, putting his phone down.  You sit for a moment looking at him before reaching for his phone, but it’s locked, and you toss it back down on the table, hoping it isn’t broken but feeling angry suddenly.  You open your mouth and press your fingers into your thighs, but all you manage is a pathetic groan.  Seokjin looks at your hands before prying your fingers off of your own skin, replacing them with his own.  They’re longer and softer and gentler than yours, and the way he runs them slowly up and down your skin is disorienting, especially when he says, his voice low, “Do you want me to fuck you and be done with you?  Is that what you want little one?”  You don’t want that.  You didn’t want to be sold in the first place.  You shake your head lamely, hanging it low.  But he withdraws his hands from your legs only to lift your chin up, and his eyes flicker back and forth over yours before he swipes a thumb over your cheek.  “Then go to bed now.”  You don’t want to be at Seokjin’s, but you don’t want to be at Nestor’s.  You want Seokjin to touch you and be done with you because that’s why he paid for you, but you don’t want to leave the comfort of his home.  You don’t know what you want as you go to bed.  You’re conflicted about so many things, but not about what you want to wear. You unclasp the infuriating bra immediately when you’re back in the guest room and pull on a new flannel shirt. You may be confused about what Seokjin has in mind for you, but you are positive you like flannel, and it’s that one solid truth that helps you sleep as get into the unbelievably soft bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jungkook, haha.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	5. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWW JIHOPE IS CUTE. 
> 
> A chapter in which Y/N learns a few more things, and hopefully you (the reader) figure a few more things out.
> 
> Or, not? IDK maybe it’s all too vague. 
> 
> I put Wonwoo in here (from Seventeen).
> 
> Italics are things Y/N has written/typed. Hopefully I caught them all.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks.

           You wonder, sometimes, if everyone is connected to everyone else in some way, if there is a little bit of you in someone else, a little bit of someone else in you.  

           Out of the corner of your eye you think you recognize an old childhood friend, but it is a complete stranger.  A friend smiles at you in such a way that reminds you of how your brother used to beam whenever he beat you in a game.  A word is said in such a way that you’re sitting in a classroom again, hearing the same sound come out of your teacher’s mouth.  It’s those connections that cause you to still sometimes, to pause and blink and think through who is actually in front of you, who they are not and who they are, to find yourself where you currently are and when you are. The looks or words or tones or actions disorient you, throw you off balance so hard sometimes you feel like you’re falling into the past.  You’re having one of those moments this morning, tottering on a stool when Seokjin says,

           “You can’t eat until you say ‘yes’.”  He explains, something about it just being another form of “yeah,” but all you can hear is the ultimatum in his voice, the punishment and the reward that will be extended to you based on your actions.  You almost want to shove him because he sounds just like Nestor in this moment, but you only get up and start to leave the kitchen.  It’s the immediate regret in his voice when he calls out to you that makes you stop, though.  “Wait.  Shit, wait, please.  Y/N, sit back down.  Please.” You turn slowly to face him, hoping he sees how upset you are, but you perch yourself back on the stool, watching him closely.  He runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  Of course you can eat.  I’ll. I can have Jimin come over again today if you’d like that?”

           “Yeah,” you say after contemplating for a moment with your lip in between your teeth.  

           “Okay, Jimin it is.”  He pats the counter and tsks, sucking in a breath.  “I’ll leave the Wi-Fi password for you.  And I already programmed my number in your phone, so if you need anything, you can just ask.  Okay?”

           “Yeah,” you say.

           “Okay,” he says, pulling on his blazer.  You wonder how someone who seems too easily flustered is really a boss, the head of a company, or CEO, or whatever he is.  Sometimes you can see it, but not now, as he seems sorrowful about his tone earlier.  “So, you’ll be alright today?  Have everything you need?”

           “Yeah,” you say.  “Yes.” He is already on his way out, but he stops when he hears the one word, so similar and yet so different.  He smiles in such a way that you know he is happy, is possibly proud, maybe relieved as it seems you aren’t angry at him for earlier, but it takes him walking back to you and putting his hands on the side of your face, bending your head down a little, to make you realize what his smile means.  He places a quick kiss to the top of your head and mumbles a,

           “Good job, little one,” before letting you go, smiling once again as you smile shyly up at him.  The apartment seems too empty the moment he is gone, and you wonder how he manages to live here alone.  He needs a pet, or something to fill the silence, and you do, too, but you decide to mess around with your new computer until Jimin arrives.  The laptop is not so different from your old one, even if a few buttons confuse you for a minute, but you log into your e-mail for the first time in weeks.  The hundreds of unread e-mails scare you at first, the daunting task of clearing your inbox almost making you want to close the tab already, but you deal with the spam and ads first before filtering through which ones are actually meant for you and should be addressed first.  It’s the three from your mom that you figure you should answer first, though your fingers hover over the keyboard for a long time, trying to formulate what exactly to say in order for her not to worry more than she already is.  The lying doesn’t sit well in your stomach, but you type and erase and think and write and edit before finally sending her one.

            _Mom, I am fine.  I am sorry I didn’t call you when I arrived.  My phone was absolutely smashed when I tripped coming out of the airport like an idiot.  At least you know I’m still clumsy ol’ me.  I took it to a shop after a few days, but it took weeks to fix, and I don’t know why I didn’t let you know.  I’m sorry.  Everything has been crazy.  There was an issue with my apartment, and I couldn’t move in for a few weeks. Thankfully I found someone at work who had a spare room I am staying in until it’s ready.  When it rains, it pours, right?  But I knew moving would be hard.  You did tell me.  Anyway, I know you said you would hear from me when I was ready, but I am sorry it took so long.  I hope you didn’t worry much.  Thanks for not sending the cops after me!  Classes are fine.  Rough, but my professors are good.  They’re not as intimidating as I thought, and I’m really not overwhelmed yet.  I’m sure I will be soon.  There is a lot to do.  Say hi to Emerson for me.  I’m sure he misses me (ha).  Love you lots.  Below is my new phone number.  I’m sure there is some reason why I had to get a new one and not just keep my old one, but I was too upset to care at the time and don’t remember what they said.  Sorry for the inconvenience.  Love you and hope to hear from you soon. -Y/N_

           There were enough truths or half-truths in your final draft that give you some peace of mind, and you know she will be glad to hear from you regardless.  You avoid the rest of the internet and social media, not ready to face all of the questions your friends have surely sent you. It thankfully doesn’t take Jimin long to arrive before lunch, Hoseok following closely behind them.  To two seem practically attached at the hip, and you wonder how long they would last if there were ever separated.  Jimin’s holding two bags, but this time one’s full of junk food, not clothes, and he promptly throws this one on top of the kitchen counter before he flops down on the couch, Hoseok lying down next to him with a giant sigh as he puts his head in Jimin’s lap.  Jimin instantly starts threading his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, and they look more at home in Seokjin’s place than you certainly feel, but it seems like they have known him for years.

           “I like the new sweater,” Jimin says, smiling easily from the couch.  You nod in acknowledgement and sink into a chair nearby, not noticing the way Jimin’s eyebrows raise when you do.  “So, Seokjin still treating you alright?”

           “Yeah,” you say.

           “I bet he is.  He’s a ridiculously good cook,” Hoseok sighs from Jimin’s lap.

           “Yeah,” you nod understandingly, still full from the breakfast the man had made before leaving for work.

           “Oh,” Jimin says, leaning over his boyfriend to reach toward the coffee table, Hoseok groaning beneath him, “Got a new computer, too?”

           “Yeah.”

           “Getting a lot of mileage out of that word, huh?” Jimin teases you as you smile back.

           “Yeah.”

           “Learned anything else?

           “Yes,” you say quietly.

           “Oh, the fancy man’s ‘yeah.’  I bet Jin liked that one,” Jimin laughs, sitting back up and fixing Hoseok’s hair he had smushed.

           “Yeah,” you smile, remembering the kiss on top of your head.

           “Oh, hey, do you like music?” Jimin says, Hoseok whining when his hand leaves his hair to pick up the other bag he had tossed beside him.

           “Yeah,” you say as enthusiastically as you can.

           “Okay, good,” Jimin says, “because I can’t associate with people who don’t like music.  Monsters.” You wait until he looks back at you before you raise your eyebrows and point at him.  “What, me?  Oh, yeah, I love music.  Even dreamed of being a singer when I was younger, if you can believe that.  It was a silly dream.  Maybe in another life, yeah?  My friend Tae is an amazing singer, though.  Could do it for a living if he ever decided to get off his lazy, spoiled ass.”

           “Tae,” Hoseok says, pinching Jimin’s leg, “is Seokjin’s brother. Taehyung.  Don’t tell Jin Jimin said that.”

           “Not really worried about her doing that, babe,” Jimin says, patting Hoseok’s head.

           “Oh, shit, sorry,” the red-head says, turning to look at you, but you shake your head.  “And Jimin is being modest for once.  He’s a really good singer.”

           “Aw, thanks babe.  Anyway, I brought these for you,” Jimin says, a pair of headphones emerging from the bag he’s opened.  “Since you have a phone and computer now, and you are a decent human, I figured you might want to listen to some music.”  You had barely gotten over the fact that Seokjin had bought you so many presents the day before, so another one could only be met with another shy smile as you reached over to take them from Jimin.  “Hobi,” Jimin says after passing them off to you, “up now, okay?”  Hoseok mumbles something but sits up, stretching and yawning as if waking up from a much needed nap before kissing Jimin on the cheek quickly.

           “Thanks for the head rub.”

           “No problem, babe.  Now,” Jimin says, standing up and going to the TV cabinet, “Seokjin has a ton of games, so I figured we could play some today.”  The open cabinet revels a dozen or more games and a couple of consoles, one of which Jimin begins to get out and hook up.  “We were worried about him a few years ago; all he did was work and play games. Remember that, Hoseok?”

          “Yeah,” Hoseok muses, smiling widely.  “Thought he was going to become one of those nerds who would never get a girl.  But he still manages to surprise me.  No one’s run off after seeing his figurine collection yet.”

          “What, you think he actually shows that to girls?” Jimin laughs.  “Imagine,  _Fifty Shades of Gray_ , but he opens the closet and it’s a bunch of Mario dolls.”

          “Oh, shit,” Hoseok laughs, his whole body shaking, “that shit’s not even funny.  Don’t make fun of him.”  You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or Jimin, since he continues to laugh, but you wonder where this elusive shrine is.

          “So, Mario Kart?” Jimin says once everything is hooked up, tossing you a controller.  “I will warn you, I am very good.”          

          It turns out that Jimin was a liar.  He really wasn’t good.  But neither were you.  He reminds you of how your mom used to play, turning the controller with each turn as if that actually helped.  Maybe, if you were playing on a Wii, it would have, but it just made Jimin look ridiculous. He tended to do everything in an exaggerated manner, too, so he fell to the floor a few times on wide turns.  He fussed, too, and yelled at the screen, and sometimes just lay on the floor and laughed as his Toad character sat there in his own exhaust fumes.  His antics made you laugh, too, while you sat beside him on the floor, because, like yawns, laughter is contagious, and you felt his pain as the AI kept beating you. You both kept playing, though, some stubborn streak and joint determination to beat the computer, not even each other anymore, keeping you going.  With the tracks on random, it was inevitable that you would eventually get the dreaded Rainbow Road track, and when the annoying trumpets sounded with the cyclopedic colored bricks under your Yoshi character, you let out a deep groan.

          “No,” you say, slumping forward before straightening up.  You set a goal to not fall off more than once.  Which you promptly fail to meet.  After the third turn gone wrong, you simply start driving backwards, and no amount of getting placed back facing the right direction can deter you from getting last place.  Jimin eventually just has to quit the race when you refuse to give up, laughing again at the fierce look of determination on your face.

          “Want to go another round?” Jimin says, and Hoseok guffaws from the couch.

          “That’s what she said!”

          “No,” you groan again, throwing the controller down. There’s nothing like a road of rainbows to kill your joy.  It’s only when Jimin sits smiling at you like a Cheshire cat that you open your mouth, realizing what you’ve said.

          “That’s a good word to know.  I imagine it will come in handy.  Imagine it could have helped with Nestor.”

          “Yeah,” you say slowly, staring at your lap, a thread on the bottom of your sweater sticking out of place just enough to grab your attention as you long to grab it and pull until it unravels.  It’s not that you hadn’t tried to say no.

          “Sorry if—” Jimin starts, but you shake your head, twisting around until you find your phone.  There’s a text from Seokjin that makes you pause but you’ll respond to later as you open up a note to type to Jimin.   _I know you think I’m pathetic_.  “What?” Jimin says, reading your note.  “Why would you think I think that?”  You shrug, because you don’t really think he thinks that, but it’s how you feel.   _What adult can’t talk?_  you write next, but Jimin only continues to frown.  He crosses his legs and his arms on the floor, actually, and stares at you so hard you have to look away.  “Y/N, something has happened to make you currently unable to talk.  Temporarily.  I know I’m not really here in an official capacity, more as a favor to Jin, but if you wanted me to diagnose you, I could.  You’re not pathetic.  You’ve had something very major, very scary, happen to you.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but something triggered something in your brain that is making you tell yourself you can’t speak.”

          “No,” you mumble, pulling at your hem a bit aggressively now.

          “No, I’m wrong?”

          “No,” you sigh, typing out  _you’re right._

          “Okay,” Jimin says softer, uncrossing his arms and leaning back on them instead.  “It’s a good step to be able to acknowledge that.  I just want to remind you that you are safe her.  Hoseok and I want to help, remember?  As does Jin.”   _Why?_  you type out immediately.   _Why does Seokjin care?_   Jimin, surprisingly, frowns.  “Because he’s a good person.”  He says it in a way that it almost sounds like he’s convincing himself or Hoseok or someone else of the fact.  Especially since he says it again.  “He’s a really good person.  He just cares about people.  Especially those who are…struggling,” Jimin says, struggling himself for the right word. “He helped me when I was in a rough spot.  I haven’t always made the best decisions,” he says, smiling warily at Hoseok on the couch, “and Jin came along just in time to save my ass.  On more than one occasion.  I guess you could say I’m a bit stubborn sometimes.”

          “Oh?” Hoseok says from the couch, but the grin he shares is nothing but endearing.

          “So,” Jimin ignores him despite giving him a smile, “Jin just means well.  I wouldn’t be here today without him.  Neither would Tae.  Or Kookie, honestly.”  You look at Hoseok who only glances away from his boyfriend to cock his head at you. You point to him and raise your eyebrows, hoping he gets the message.

          “Oh, me?” he says.  He sucks in a breath before replying.  “I don’t know how to say this without sounding insensitive, but I’ve never really needed Jin’s help.  But he’s helped me inadvertently by helping Jimin.”

          “Hobi’s always been an angel,” Jimin laughs, and Hoseok rolls his eyes but doesn’t contradict him.  “And Seokjin is a close second.  He really does take care of all of us.”  You don’t contradict him, because you can tell that Seokjin is kind. But kindness given without any expectation of anything in return is not what you are used to.  You are positive he wants something.  He bought you.  As far as you know, he is still paying for you daily.  And you just can’t comprehend that he’s doing it all so he can just spend more money on you.  To just help you, some stranger who can’t even thank him properly.  “And, when you want to, you can tell him, or me, what happened.  We can help you more, I think, if we know.”  He must see you jerk and freeze, must notice the way your mouth opens and closes. Nothing comes out but heavy breaths, but Jimin scoots closer to you.  “Hoseok, babe, can you go get us some water?”

          “Sure,” you hear, and soon Jimin is handing you a glass that you don’t dare take because you are so trembling so much.

          “Thanks, babe,” Jimin whispers, placing the water down on the table next to you.  “Y/N? Do you want to tell me what happened? You can type it out.  We’re not going to judge you or contradict you in any way.  We’ll just listen.  You talk.” You’re not sure how long you sit there, not moving except to breath and shake slightly, and you realize, for all his exaggerated mannerisms and stubbornness he’s admitted to and his obvious way with people, Jimin is patient.  If Hoseok is an angel, then Jimin is a saint.  You are grateful when he actually takes an option away, makes your decision easier for you even though the answer is still impossible to give. “Y/N, do you want to tell me?” You find yourself nodding while saying,

          “No,” though, and Jimin thinks for a moment.

          “Remember there is a difference between wanting to tell me and feeling like you are capable of telling me.  Do you want to tell me?”

          “Yes,” you sigh, clenching your fists on your thighs.

          “Okay,” Jimin says softly.  “Can you?”

          “No,” you say immediately, laughing once, angry, bitter laugh.  “No.” You pick up your phone again, frustrated with yourself for not letting Jimin help you, for making this so difficult on everyone.  _It’s complicated_ , you put.

          “It usually is, when dealing with people,” Jimin says understandingly.  “Can I leave you with a task?  A bit of homework?  No pressure to get it done, but I find it helps to set goals when you’re trying to work through something.”  You nod because he is right, even if you aren’t going to promise you’ll do whatever he asks. Still, he beams at you encouragingly. “Great!  So, listen to music.  With the headphones.  And, if you’re feeling really adventurous and brave and safe, shoot for learning ‘thank you.’ Jin really likes that one.”   _Thank you,_  you immediately type on your phone to show him, eliciting a laugh from him. “Yeah, no problem.  We’ll go now, but let me give you our numbers, yeah?  That way you can get a hold of me directly in case Jin’s ever not around.  Which is most of the time, honestly.”

          “He works too much,” Hoseok says, standing over Jimin as his boyfriend types their numbers into your phone.

          “Also, I’d suggest you respond to him soon.  He’ll worry if you don’t,” Jimin says, handing your phone back with a smile.  You nod slightly as he gets up, Hoseok wrapping an arm around his waist immediately.  “I brought you some junk food, too, because while Seokjin’s an amazing cook, he fails the understand the importance of stuffing one’s face with MSG and corn syrup every once in a while.”

          “All hail the mighty Oreo,” Hoseok says reverently, looking up at the ceiling.  You smile easily at them as you stand up to see them out, hoping that they know you are grateful for their help, even if they are only there because Seokjin initially asked them to be.  With another round of smiles and small waves, you close the door behind them, turning back to your phone to respond to Seokjin.

**Seokjin (10:34AM):**

Jimin will be over around 11

Let me know if you need anything

 

**Seokjin (11:42AM):**

Did you eat yet?

 

**Seokjin (12:04PM):**

Is Jimin still there?

 

**Me (12:20PM):**

No, just left

I haven’t eaten yet

But I will

 

You’re tempted to just dig through the bag Jimin left, but you suppose having proper food would be best.  You decide to clean up the living room and go to the bathroom before eating, though, and by the time you come back to the kitchen your phone is lit up again.

 

**Seokjin (12:23PM):**

Come eat with me

I’ll send Kookie

 

**Me (12:26PM):**

Okay

I’ll go wait downstairs?

 

**Seokjin (12:28PM):**

He can come upstairs to get you

 

You really don’t want to inconvenience the boy, though, and, even though you have no idea how far away Seokjin works, you don’t want to keep him waiting, so you hurry to put on a pair of shoes and head downstairs. It’s only when you’re stepping out of the elevator when you see Seungkwan and the other guard that you realize you should have asked Seokjin what you should be wearing.  You’re in jeans and a sweater, and he left that morning with another suit on.  You almost turn back around to go change, but Seungkwan has spotted you.  The boy wears a bright smile, and his hand waves eagerly toward you, so you decide to just let what happens happen as you wave back, approaching him and his friend with a smile.

           “Afternoon, Y/N,” Seungkwan says cheerfully.  “Headed out?”

           “Yeah,” you say, and both he and the other boy raise their eyebrows at you.

           “So, you can talk,” the other boy says, and Seungkwan proceeds to jab him in his ribs with his elbow while still smiling sweetly at you.

           “Ignore Wonwoo.  He’s an idiot and completely inapt at human interaction.”

           “Whatever,” the boy mumbles, turning away to lean against the wall by the elevator.

           “So, um, Seokjin knows you’re going somewhere, right?” Seungkwan says, suddenly awkward as he pulls on the edge of his jacket.  You nod and get out your phone to type an explanation.   _Kookie is coming for me._   “Oh,” Seungkwan says, drawing the word out as he nods.  “Gotcha.  Where you headed?”   _Lunch with Seokjin._  “Oh, wow, fancy.”  You raise your eyebrows at that, and Seungkwan thankfully explains.  “I mean, you only get invited to lunch with the boss if you’re in trouble or, like, I don’t know, one of his friends.  Like Mr. Park.”   _Mr. Park?_  you type, confused.  “Oh, Jimin?  Park Jimin.”  You open your mouth in recognition before shutting it and swallowing.  You weren’t Seokjin’s friend which would only leave being in trouble, and your eyes darted around nervously as you thought about what you had done.   _Have you ever had lunch with him?_  you decide to ask while you wait for Jungkook to arrive.  “Me?” Seungkwan says, almost scoffing.  “No way.  I’m small fry.  I’ll never be his friend.  So I just hope I never get in trouble.”  _Why would he invite you to lunch if you were in trouble?_ “Well, you know those super sad posts about people taking their dogs out to gorge on McDonalds or something before they put them down because they’re dying of cancer or some sad shit?” Seungkwan says, and you nod slowly, afraid of where this conversation was going.  “I suppose it’s like that,” he says before shrugging, as if that answered all of your questions.  You don’t have time to question the comparison, though, as a sleek black car pulls up.  Seungkwan must recognize the car, as does Wonwoo, who leaps off of the wall and immediately scurries back to his post, his hands behind his back by the time Jungkook steps out of the car.

           “Boys,” Jungkook says, a little stiffly, with a small nod as he opens up the back passenger door for you.

           “Sir,” Wonwoo says.

           “How’s it going?” Seungkwan says, his voice a little more friendly.

           “So far so good,” Jungkook says.  “You?”  The conversation is oddly forced, and you wonder who they’re conversing for as you look back and forth between the three.

           “Can’t complain,” Seungkwan says, and Wonwoo readily agrees by nodding.

           “All good,” he adds.

           “Glad to hear,” Jungkook says, raising his eyebrows at you.  “Ready, Y/N?”  You press your lips together and frown slightly before nodding, but instead of going in the door Jungkook had opened for you, you head to the passenger door in the front.  You have to walk right behind Jungkook to do so, and he turns so his back isn’t to you, already shutting the door he’s holding open before you can click the other one open.  “Let me,” he rushes, but you don’t give him enough time to open it, merely put his hand on the top of it to keep it open as you climb inside.  He huffs once and waits until your feet are in before closing the door, and you watch him jog around the still-running car to hop back into the driver’s seat.  He finishes buckling and puts his hand on the gear stick with a frown on his face before looking sideways at you.  “Why aren’t you sitting in the back?” he says a little bluntly, and you fumble for your phone, avoiding his gaze.  _Feels weird.  Like you’re my driver._  “Well, I am,” he says when he sees your note.  “I mean, Seokjin sent me.  So.”   _Sorry_ , you type hastily.   _I can sit in the back if you want._  “No, I mean,” Jungkook says, shaking his head, “just not used to anyone sitting up here.”   _You won’t get in trouble, right?_   Jungkook stops looking at your phone to look at you, and you lick your lips, his face soft but gaze intense, a reminder of a dark corner in a club, of guiding hands on your hips.  “No, you can do what you want.  But I may get in trouble if we’re late, so, buckle up.”  He changes gears and starts to drive away as soon as your seatbelt clicks, and then the ride is silent and awkward.  You’re so tense after what Seungkwan said that Jungkook’s quietness and tight grip on the steering wheel doesn’t make you feel any better, and the building Jungkook pulls up to only ten minutes later doesn’t quell your fears, either.  In fact, you’re almost terrified by the time you get out of the car, and Jungkook must notice because he opens your door and you only sit there, looking at the colossal building in front of you.

           “Y/N?” he says calmly.  “You okay?”

           “Yeah,” you mutter, unbuckling your seatbelt to get out.  He’s been reaching a hand down to you, and you realize too late that it would have been helpful to steady yourself as you got out of the car, so by the time you reach for his hand he’s already pulling it away, turning to shut the door behind you.  He clears his throat as he locks the car while you fiddle with your phone, gesturing with his head.  

           “Follow me then,” he says.  He walks into the building and leads you straight to a desk where a gorgeous lady with thin hoop earrings is currently on the phone.  She flashes Jungkook a huge smile that he returns with a smaller one as he taps on the desk.  She continues to talk as she slides a clipboard over to him, her eyes lingering on you now.  Your sweater and jeans are increasingly feel like a poor choice.  Even Jungkook is in slacks and a nice button up, and there is a flush rising to your face as you take a pen from Jungkook.  “Just sign in, name and time.”  You obey quickly, and by the time you place the pen down Jungkook is slipping a thin lanyard around your neck and walking away from the desk.  “Bye Shelly,” he calls with a wave, and girl on the phone half gets out of her seat to call back,

           “Bye, Kookie!”  The boy half chuckles as he presses the Up button for the elevator and rocks back and forth on his heels as you both wait.  There aren’t a lot of people in the lobby, but you have a feeling the place is going to be buzzing with activity regardless of which floor you go to, and you aren’t wrong.  The floor Jungkook leads you to is crowded and chaotic, worse even than the mall had been. There is literally someone yelling across the room to another person, not in an angry fashion but clearly passionately.  A lady in a skirt runs by the elevator immediately with a stack of papers in her hands, and there must be a dozen phones ringing.  Without thinking, you draw a deep breath and latch onto Jungkook, gripping his arm tightly.  His head whips down to yours immediately, but he doesn’t pull away from you.  In fact, he stays still until a few more people pass before moving, telling you as he goes,

           “Alright, stay close.”  You do, and you are grateful everyone seems too busy to notice you, because your eyes feel so wide you’re sure you look terrified, and you feel a little bit so. You do accidentally make eye contact with someone who is on the phone, and when his eyebrows narrow you avert your gaze and watch Jungkook’s shiny black shoes walking slightly in front of yours until they stop at a doorway.  He knocks and waits for someone inside to let him in.  The carpet changes to a smooth wood underneath your feet, and Jungkook barely clears his throat and elbows you so gently you aren’t hurt but know you should pull away and look up now.  Seokjin hasn’t even acknowledged your presence yet, rustling through some papers on a huge mahogany desk, but a tall man you recognize but can’t place yet with almost silver hair and glasses perched on his nose sitting in a chair looks like he has been waiting for you.

           “Oh, good,” the man says as he stands up.  “Maybe you can get him to eat.”  You hear Seokjin sigh and watch as he puts his hands on his desk, bending his head down and taking a deep breath.

           “Namjoon, I do not need you to take care of me.”

           “On the contrary,” the silver-haired man says, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket, “that is literally my job.  Now, eat before you get a headache.”

           “I need to find this document,” Seokjin says, his search through papers on his desk continuing.  

           “It’s not like it’s going to go anywhere,” Namjoon says, sighing slightly. “Eat, then maybe Y/N can help you sort through them.”  At the sound of your name, Seokjin finally looks up and toward the doorway.  You do feel significantly underdressed, but he doesn’t look disappointed.

           “No,” Seokjin says slowly, looking you up and down twice, one time too many to make you feel comfortable, “no, she’s just here to eat with me.  Are you hungry?”

           “Yeah,” you say, looking at him even if you feel Namjoon watching you and Jungkook standing stiffly beside you.

           “Me too, me too,” he says, brushing his hands down his blazer before deciding to take it off and sling it over the back of his chair.  “Hopefully it’s not cold yet.”  There are a few bags on a table nearby that he heads toward, pulling containers out.  “Namjoon, this one’s yours.  I’ll let you know if I find the form.”

           “I’ll check back in a bit, then.  And I still think you should double check with Yoongi,” Namjoon says, taking a box from Seokjin.  “Thanks,” he says, sending you a quick smile as he walks out of the room.

           “Kookie,” Seokjin says, “this one’s yours.”

           “Oh,” the boy says, hesitating for a split second before hurrying forward to take the box from Seokjin who hasn’t even turned around.  “Thanks, boss.”

           “No problem.  Stay close, yeah?  You can drive Y/N home in a bit.”

           “Yes sir,” Jungkook says, bowing slightly as he backs away.  Seokjin turns around by the time Jungkook is back to the door, though, his brows furrowed.

           “Wonwoo didn’t give you any trouble today, did he?”

           “No sir,” Jungkook says quickly.  “Doubt he will any time soon.”

           “Soon?  He better never again if he knows what’s good for him,” Seokjin says before sighing.  “Alright, thanks, Kookie.”

           “Sure thing, boss,” Jungkook says, giving him a head nod before looking at you. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but he only shuts it again before shutting the door behind him.

           “Take a seat,” Seokjin says, waving at some chairs while he continues to open containers.  You move slowly across the room and opt to sit on the floor by the table.  You worry for a second Seokjin is going to tell you to act civilized or reprimand you for being so casual in his fancy office, but he says nothing and in fact soon joins you on the floor, sitting across the long coffee table from you.  “Just figured you might want to get out of the house,” he says, handing you some utensils. He seems to be waiting for you, despite how hungry he might be, to take the first bite, so while you aren’t sure what to start with, you snag a piece of what looks like chicken and are relived when he proceeds to dig in.  He’s quiet as he eats, something clearly still bothering him as he does.  You’re already used to his focus and seriousness, but he is on another level at work.  You want to ask what is wrong, if there is anything you can do to help like Namjoon had mentioned, if he wants you to do something for him finally, but you only eat quietly instead.  “Oh,” he says at one point when he starts to slow down, “did you have fun with Jimin?”

           “Yes,” you say, smiling and pulling your phone out.   _We played Mario Kart_ , you type, and Seokjin smiles a little at that.

           “Yeah?  He is terrible at that game.”  You laugh, remembering Jimin on the floor, and nod in agreement.  “Are you any good?”  You shrug and send him another message across the table on your phone.  _I’m okay. It was fun._   “Good, I’m glad you had fun.”  You nod again, slowing down, too, until eventually you put your fork down completely and sit looking at him.  He smiles warily at you, but his face is still too serious, and you understand partially why when he says, “Nestor’s been asking about you.” Whatever you just ate jumps halfway back up your throat as you lick your lips, a salty taste still lingering on them. “Don’t worry.  He’s not going to bother you.  He just seems very intent on getting you back soon.”  You let out a sigh before reaching your phone again. _He is my boss. Wouldn’t you want your employee to come back to work?_   “Yeah, but I’m still paying for you, so it’s like you are still working,” Seokjin says, and while he’s being reasonable and is correct, the thought of being paid for still sits uneasily with you on top of everything you just ate, and you shift uncomfortably on the floor.  “Whatever the case, don’t worry,” Seokjin says, leaning back on his hands.  “If he continues to bother me, I’ll deal with it. Anyway.  Jimin said you learned a new word?  Can I hear?”

           “No,” you say, and you try not to laugh at the look that flashes across his face.

           “Oh,” he says, “okay.  Well, whatever it is, maybe you can tell me later.”

           “No,” you say, smiling at him, but he only frowns, clearly trying to formulate a response before he tsks and opens his mouth.

           “I see,” he says, laughing.  “My bad. This was about to turn into an Abbott and Costello sketch.  That’s great, little one.  So you think Jimin is helping?”

           “Yeah,” you say immediately, nodding enthusiastically.

           “Good, good.  I’m glad,” he says.  He takes another deep breath before standing up, patting his thighs before picking up the empty containers.  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.  Kookie can take you home whenever.”  You hum in response and watch him clean up before turning around on the floor as he goes back to his desk.  The creases on his forehead reappear as he starts to go back through the papers littered there.  The silence that falls is familiar, like afternoons spent on your porch with Brycen working on homework, like watching Saturday morning cartoons with Emmerson, like stealing glances at your own boss while he typed furiously at his computer, like watching your dad work late into the evenings to provide for you family. Seokjin radiated all of these energies and more, but overall he, as Jimin had said, clearly simply cared.  He worked hard to help others.  You weren’t even sure how many people he was providing for, who his family included apart from his brother, Taehyung, and if he had any other special cases like you in his life.  There was just something familiar about him, something that you were starting to find comfort in even if you were still cautious and anxious about consequences and not completely comfortable with telling him everything yet. Taking a deep breath, you stand up, but he doesn’t notice you until you are right by his desk, pushing his chair away from it a little.

           “Yes?” he says, and you bite your lip, not wanting to annoy him and be pushed away from him.  You turn his chair around a little more until your knee is pressed against his, and his eyes narrow as you put a hand on his shoulder.  Seeming to know what you are doing, he thankfully doesn’t stop you but reaches forward to put a hand on your hip as you drape your other leg over his. His chair threatens to rock forward too much as you settle on top of his legs, his chair so high your feet merely sway back and forth over the floor.  He places his other hand on the small of your back as you grab onto his other shoulder, laughing slightly in embarrassment as the chair moves, but he looks too concerned for you to laugh long, instead opting to bite your lips before wetting them.  “What is it, little one?” he says softly as his fingers slip through your belt loop. There is something akin to feeling safe and comfortable in his lap, but being this close to his face for longer than a few seconds is disorienting.  You aren’t sure where to look, and his eyes only looking into yours makes you look away more and more.  There isn’t a blemish in sight on his face nor a hair out of place.  Even in his stress he seems calm, in control of himself and the situation, and that is familiar even if it has been fleeting in your life recently.  Wanting more, you shift a little closer to him until your chests are almost touching. You move your fingers to the back of his neck, and his eyes flicker for the first time when you play with the hair there, but they return to staring at you patiently.  You open your mouth several times, trying to form the right words, distracted by his hand pressing into your back and his lips so close to yours. You seem to be doing the breathing for both of you, as he barely seems effected by your proximity, and you lick your lips repeatedly before staring at the buttons on his collar hiding his neck. Taking a deep breath, you finally manage to blurt out,

           “Thank you,” and if it wasn’t for the smile that emerges on Seokjin’s face, you wouldn’t have believed you actually said it out loud.  “Thank you,” you whisper again and have to look up when you feel his breath on your face.

           “For what?”  You struggle again, twisting your fingers together with some of his hair on the back of his neck and rolling your shoulders once.  Your mouth makes an attempt, opening and closing, but you only huff.  He seems to recognize your struggle and moves his hand from your waist to your thigh, rubbing up and down a few times.  “It’s okay, that’s a big question.  You’re welcome.”  You nod slightly, his hands feeling familiar as they keep you steady, so familiar that you’re in no hurry to get up.  You don’t want to bother him for too much longer, either, but you want something else, and you have to look at him, trying to communicate with him without speaking.  Leaning in, you look between his eyes and his lips several times until he smirks slightly. “What do you want, little one?” he says, and the term makes you swallow and huff.  You lean your head back and take another deep breath, but the words are too far away, too unknown, too strange and refuse to come as you lick your lips again.  “Be careful,” Seokjin whispers, his voice making goosebumps rise on your arm.  “How can I know what to give you if you don’t ask?” You can’t tell him, and you can’t ask, and you pull back suddenly, needing to write something down.  Seokjin stops you, though, his hands tightening on your back and hip.  “Hey, it’s okay, little one.  Let me help you.  Okay?” You settle slowly back in his lap, your hands dangling idly over his shoulders as you nod slowly.  “Okay,” he says.  “You thanked me.  Is that all you want to do right now?”

           “No,” you say after taking a deep breath.

           “Okay.  Do you want to get up now?”

           “No,” you say, and his hand trails slowly up your back, pressing in with enough force to make you lean closer to him.

           “Do you want to kiss me now?”

           “Yes,” you breath out, and Seokjin smirks, something dark you haven’t seen before in his eyes.  It is familiar, and not completely in a comforting way, but you recognize it nonetheless and lean even closer to him.

           “Go ahead then, little one.”  The usual term sounds a little different this time, and the first time you press your lips against yours he doesn’t move, just lets your skin touch his.  You pull back before trying again, and your determination to be better or him realizing you weren’t done makes him move, too, and you almost melt against him, something about the kiss so familiar you feel like you’re sinking.  You pull back, a suffocating feeling clogging your airway too quickly, and lean your forehead against his for a moment, his hair tickling your skin.

           “Okay,” you hear Seokjin say, his hand leaving your back too soon.  “Let’s get you home now, yeah?”

           “Yeah,” you say, casting your eyes down as you climb off of him.  He stands up and takes your hand, suddenly laughing as he reaches to pick up a piece of paper on his desk.

           “Fucking hell,” he mutters, “stupid paper.”  He mutters something else as he leads you to the door, the paper secure in his other hand.  He opens the door with that hand, the paper crumpling a little as he does.  Once the door is open, you blink rapidly and shrink away from him as he positively yells into the hallway for Jungkook.  Several people in the area look at him but go back to work, perhaps even a little harder, when they realize he isn’t calling for them.  Jungkook appears around a corner looking like he just ran from across the room, straightening his jacket as he did.

           “Yes, boss?”

           “Take Y/N home now,” Seokjin says, passing you through the door with his hand. “And give this to Namjoon on your way out for me?” he says, passing the paper to Jungkook.  It’s familiar, too, the look Jungkook gives you let go of Seokjin’s hand, even if it’s a look you hoped the boy would never give you.

           “Sure thing, boss.  Anything else?” he says, his jaw clenched.  Seokjin doesn’t notice though, only shakes his head and sends you a quick smile.

           “That’s all.  See you later, Y/N.”  You nod and give him a smile before he goes back into his office and turn to look at Jungkook, but he is already walking for the elevator.  It’s familiar, the silence as you follow him and the tension on the drive home.  But just because something is familiar doesn’t mean it is comfortable or desirable or beneficial.  It doesn’t mean you want it to be familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you missed a chance to hold Kookie’s hand *cries for you*
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	6. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDN’T WRITE SMUT I PROMISE. BUT. Well. It’s not descriptive, I mean. 
> 
> It’s long, so guess who didn’t proof read? *Raises hand* *Whispers* “It’s me, I didn’t.”
> 
> Italics are things Y/N has written/typed. Hopefully I caught them all.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

          He waits a few more days, watching and listening and checking in with Jimin whenever he leaves her alone for the day, confident his friend is going to be able to help in more ways than he can.  

          He’s infinitely more patient and understanding, and while Seokjin had been around for him and Tae during their rough patches, he’s never experienced anything similar and doesn’t know how to deal with it.  He tries to remember what Tae had been like as a kid when he went to his therapy, but Seokjin had been busy with other things, hadn’t really thought anything of it, hadn’t known why his brother suddenly went from bright and energetic to moody and silent and violent.  He knows now, has known for several years ever since he took over the company from his father, but he wasn’t around for the process, so he doesn’t know how to help. And Jimin was never ever quiet, was the opposite in fact, so, again, Seokjin’s never met anyone like Y/N.  So he’s not exactly sure what to do with the girl.

           He could tell weeks ago how timid she was, how shy and scared she was, and part of his interest was purely curiosity, wanting to know why she was so quiet.  He couldn’t deny Jungkook’s interest in her, either, but is more interested in what looks like the boy’s attempt to hide his interest.  Seokjin has always wanted to give Jungkook something he wants more than just something he needs, but the boy hasn’t shared enough of his life with Seokjin for him to feel comfortable getting him certain things. He knows more about the boy than he lets on, but he doesn’t want Jungkook to know that yet.  He also has been suspicious of Nestor for a while now, but the man has never been at the top of his priority list and therefore never garnered much of his time and energy.  But Seokjin wonders some days if he picked the wrong girl.  He’s gone back a few nights, seen the other new girl Miah on the stage, taken her to a back room.  She acts timid but talks freely once they’re alone, but still isn’t completely open.  He knows there’s something she’s keeping from him, and he wonders if she was at his house instead of Y/N, would he know what he needs to know by now?

           But he wakes up early and stands in the doorway to the guest room, watching her sleep.  She doesn’t seem to toss and turn as much, sleeps deeper and is harder to wake up in the mornings now, and Seokjin finds that he doesn’t mind.  He’s been late to work for the past week ever since she came to eat lunch with him, but he’s the boss, so no one will dare say anything, and he realizes he doesn’t care, wants to make sure she eats before he leaves and knows when he will be coming home.  He finds waiting for her to say something new easier than anything else, and he doesn’t mind asking instead of demanding things for her.  He loves watching the way she lights up when she pleases him, when she does something that makes him proud, when she trusts him just a little bit more.  It almost makes him feel bad, but she is getting better, and he does care.  He does want her to start talking, does want her to stop being so afraid, does want to know what has made her this way. Some days he feels impatient, is tense as he cooks dinner, wants to yell at her when she just sits there even if she does say thank you.  He wants her to get better faster, wants to have a conversation with him instead of just asking “yes” or “no” questions and getting one-word answers.  

          And he does not want to take advantage of her, but every day it gets harder, especially as she has started to climb into his lap each night.  She’s learned to wait by his actions alone, sits on the floor looking up at him or standing by his chair until he looks at her.  She doesn’t look her age at night, seems to revert to a younger and more vulnerable state and gets even quieter.  The more pliant she is, the gentler he knows he has to be, and he doesn’t want to ruin her, he wants her to feel safe, but there’s an element of the unknown when he interacts with her.  He isn’t sure if he will ever know how she truly feels or what she truly wants if she doesn’t tell him.  

           He’s not annoyed when she waits for him during those nights because he’s just messing around on his phone or reading a book for pleasure, never doing work, so he isn’t bothered by her need for attention.  He never gives in immediately, anyway, because he doesn’t want her to think she has that control over him, but always makes her wait. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for over an hour.  She doesn’t pout, he has discovered, while she waits.  Sometimes she does when he asks her something and she grows frustrated with herself in her inability to explain with her words, but never while she waits for him.  He will signal he’s ready by taking off his glasses or putting down his phone or closing his book and holding his hand out to her.  Some nights she just takes his hand and climbs into his lap and leans against his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying his warmth and the quiet.  Other nights, especially ones when he is later than he had told her, she seems agitated and plays with his shirt collars or runs her fingers up and down his tie if he still has one on.  Occasionally she has crawled into the chair to sit beside him holding her phone with paragraphs she’s written during the day, questions she has or things she wants to tell him about what’s happened that day, about something funny Seungkwan or Jimin or Hoseok said or to sit beside him and read a book she’s gotten from his shelves.  

           The nights when she sits and stares at him, waiting expectantly for him to do the same back, are few and far between.  He isn’t sure if he necessarily likes those nights the best, and he isn’t even sure which ones are the most productive for her getting better, but he can’t deny liking the way her skin feels beneath his hands, the way her lips taste in between his.  She still moves languidly, warily, no confidence behind her movements, and it’s this, even more so than her silence, that confirms how much she is still holding back, how she is still not letting him in.  She’s been there for two weeks and still only knows a few words, and neither Jimin nor he has been able to figure anything out about why she has suddenly gone mostly mute.  He knows he could easily make it worse, knows that one wrong step or one wrong word can make her retreat even further into herself.  Jimin has warned him and tried to explain it to him.  But he is getting more impatient.  So the next time she climbs into his lap and laces her fingers behind his neck, a sure sign by now for what she wants, he decides to push her a little to see what might happen.

           “Y/N,” he says when she presses her forehead against his cheek.  “Do you trust me?”  She nods and mumbles in the affirmative and he rewards her with a peck on her head, just an indication of what is yet to come.  “Want to try something new tonight, okay?”  She stills a little, looking up at him, and he can see the trust in her eyes as she nods.  “Need you to use your words, though, okay, little one?  You’re so polite and patient and good, but I think it’s time you start saying ‘please’ before you get something, don’t you?  What do you think about that?”  He knows not to deal in ultimatums anymore and is trying his best to word his suggestions in a more positive manner, to make it sound like it’s a suggestion or an idea or something she can have a say in.  He can tell she is hesitant, but she nods slowly, earning herself a smile.  “Okay, get up then, please, and go to my room.”  He sees her mouth open and close, a sound, some beginning of some word he can’t recognize, at the front of it trying to be heard.  “You can say no, if you want.  You know that you can say no anytime, little one.”

           “No,” she says immediately, shaking her hand, but she clearly doesn’t mean to his idea, because she stands up and pulls on his hand gently until he follows her. He’s a little surprised about how sure her steps are and even more surprised when she turns once they’re in his room and reaches for a button his shirt.

           “No, no, Y/N, you need to ask if you want to do that.  Do you understand?”

           “Yes,” she whispers, pulling her hands away, and Seokjin has to resist biting his lip at how quick she is to obey.  He waits, seeing if she will ask, but after a few moments when she only stands there chewing on the inside of her mouth, he smiles and reaches down to take her hand, guiding her to his bed that he never bothered to make since he got out of bed that morning.  

           “Lie down, please,” he says at the edge of the bed, letting go of her hand for her to climb up.  She sits first, hugging her knees to her chest and watching him before shimming down. She always looks small next to him, but she looks tiny in his bed, and he gives her a small smile despite how pleased he is at the sight.  “Good girl,” he says, climbing up as well and resting on his knees beside her.  “Make sure you say ‘no’ if you want me to stop, okay? Yes?”

           “Yes,” she whispers, her voice as small as her body lying in wait.

           “Is it okay if I touch you?” he says, and she nods before stuttering,

           “Yes.”

           “Be polite,” he says, even as he straddles her hips.  He knows his weight would be too much for her, so he stays up on his knees, staring down at her.  She fidgets just a little before stilling, her hands picking at the sheet beneath her.  He raises his eyebrow and cocks his head, waiting as patiently as he can with her beneath him like this.  “Y/N? You with me?”  She nods on the pillow, messing up her hair a little as her head moves up and down.

           “Want me to touch you?”

           “Yes,” she says, though it almost sounds like a question.

           “Can you ask nicely?” Seokjin says, looking at the hem of her sweater sitting on the top of her waistband.  He moves slowly to lift it just enough for a rush of cold air to flow under it before he drops it back down.  She is still beneath him when he looks up at her face for a second before he uses his other hand to lift up the other side of it, and this time he brings it up before dropping it, leaving a patch of her skin exposed.  

           “What do you say?” he says, barely brushing his fingertips over her bare thigh.  She’s been wearing shorts to bed that are barely visible under her long sweaters recently, and her skin reacts immediately to the light touch.  Her mouth opens and she makes the sound she had made in his chair earlier, though it sounds almost like a whistle now.

           “Please?” he suggests, putting his hands by her head and hovering over her.  Her hands move when he gets closer, one of them wrapping around the back of his neck and the other aiming for his hip.  He stops the latter, pulling it back over her head and keeping it trapped there under his own hand.  “I asked if I could touch you, now.  Don’t you think you should ask if you can touch me, little one?”  He worries for a second that he has taken it too far, because her eyes go wide, and she squirms as her hand on his neck falls lamely onto her chest.  The noise emitting from her mouth is distinctively an “s” sound, and he thinks she is trying to apologize, so he lets go of her hand to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her skin quickly.  He shushes her and backtracks, leaning down to kiss her forehead quickly. She seems to calm down a little at that, so he smiles at her, putting his hand back by her ear.  “You still okay?” he says after a moment, letting her catch her breath.  She nods again and adds a,

           “Yes,” because she knows he wants a verbal confirmation.

           “Okay,” he says, merely hovering over her as she looks up at him.  She doesn’t pout, but she doesn’t look happy, either, and he resists smiling at her, knowing she must be having a hard time just lying there.  “Want a kiss, little one?”

           “Yes,” she says quickly but shyly.  She doesn’t say the “magic word,” though, so he only kisses her cheek. When he pulls away, she finally does pout, the sight so cute Seokjin almost laughs because he loves teasing people, but he knows now isn’t the time.  He leans down and kisses her other cheek slowly, letting his lips linger along her jaw even as he says,

           “Say please.”  She makes the noise as if she is trying to whistle again, a clear “s” sound, and he can’t imagine what she is trying to apologize for, but when he kisses just the edge of her mouth, he can feel her lips trembling.  She finally manages to shake out a word, but it isn’t what he is expecting.

           “S-Seok,” she says, and he blinks against her face before lifting himself up to look at her.  He knows not to question her.  Knows to ask her to repeat herself could make her retreat and not say it again.  But all he wants to do is hear her say his name, just the beginning of his name, again.  It’s better than any “please” ever could be, so he rewards her with a kiss. He can feel her whole head being pressed into the pillow beneath her as he leans down, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t even bother to wait to hear her say anything else as he moves a hand under her shirt, hissing when he realizes she isn’t wearing a bra.  

           “Shit,” he says, pulling away to get a hold of himself.

           “Seok,” she says again, and he thinks he doesn’t ever need to hear his whole name from her.

           “No,” he says, despite how desperate she looks beneath him, “be polite.”

           “Please,” she says with no hesitation in her voice.  The unwavering look in her eyes makes him lean back onto his knees, his hands grabbing the bottom of her sweater and pushing it up to under her arms, only taking a second to take her in before pulling her forward slightly.

           “Arms,” he says as she lifts them so he can pull the sweater off completely. “Good girl,” he whispers, caging her again.  He’s tempted to only kiss her lips again, but he only lingers on them until she pulls away with a gasp from the way his hand splays over her lower ribcage.  He moves to her neck, trailing slow kisses down her skin as she moves her head to the side.

           “Seok, please,” she says, her voice ragged but also restrained enough to where he thinks her jaw must be clenched.  “Touch me, please.”  He pulls away from her neck as his hand moves down her side.  She has her eyes closed, so he can’t quite gauge her reaction, but the gasp she lets out before biting her lip when his hand slips under her pants and presses against her experimentally screams positive to him.  And she positively writhes and lets out a curse when he slips a finger into her.  He’s almost glad her eyes are closed because he can’t hold back his smile now as he continues, and he knows when she’s close by the way she starts to curl into him. Her eyes pop open right before she finishes, and it’s panic he sees in them for some reason.  He withdraws his hand quickly to catch her face before she can turn away from him and presses down hard into her lips, catching a whimper she tries to let out.  She stills again as he kisses her slowly, pulling away to whisper what soothing words he can think of to her.

           “You’re okay, Y/N.  You did so well.  My brave little one.  Are you with me?”

           “Seok, Seok,” she says, shaking now as she comes down, or because she is cold, or from the fear radiating through her.  “Don’t send me back.  Please, please, Seok.”  She isn’t really moving under him, isn’t reaching for him, except to curl up as she starts to cry, and he resists asking even though he wants to, just lets her make herself smaller before he pulls the blankets up and curls up behind her, holding her until she stops shaking.

 

           You’re still shaking when you wake up, a warm chest pressed against your back and an arm curled around your waist tightly.  Someone is breathing heavily, clearly through his mouth, onto your neck, and if you weren’t so scared you might appreciate Seokjin’s clearly gorgeous and toned chest when you turn around in his arms, but you only touch it to wake him up, a little surprised at how sensitive he seems to be the moment you touch him.  He wakes with his eyes wide and a grunt when they narrow again, seeing you in the dark lying beside him, and his arm curls around your back to close the distance between you again.

           “Seok,” you whisper, shaking his shoulder slightly.  His eyes open widely again at the call of his name, and he blinks his sleep away a few times before he smiles at you.

           “Morning, little one.  Are you okay?”

           “Seok, please, please don’t send me back, please,” you start to beg, almost clawing at him.  His eyebrows narrow immediately as he removes his hand from your waist, reaching up to grab your fingers on his chest instead.

           “Hey,” he says, soft but stern, “I’m not going to send you back.  You’re alright.  Don’t worry.”

           “B-b,” you try before pushing away from him, sitting up and looking for your phone or something to write on.  He sits up slower behind you, his long fingers running up your bare back causing you to still as they wrap around the back of your neck.  He pushes your head down as he scoots closer behind you until you feel his other hand on your thigh.

           “Hey,” he says again, his groggy morning voice disappearing with each word, “calm down.  You’re okay. Let me make coffee first, okay? Then we’ll talk.  Yeah?” he says, his fingers scratching the back of your head as you nod.

           “Yeah,” you say.

           “Okay,” he yawns, his hands leaving you to stretch over his head.  “Go get cleaned up.”  The weight of him leaving the bed to go to the bathroom leaves you off balance for a moment, but a shiver makes you find your sweater to throw back on before you head back to your own room.  You shower quickly, scrubbing at yourself enough to leave your skin red, and dress before toweling yourself dry, opting for pants and a flannel shirt. You walk to the kitchen with your phone in your hands, already typing out an explanation for Seokjin.  He gives you a smile from the stove, already dressed for work.

           “Seok,” you say, turning your phone toward him.  He doesn’t stop stirring the pan in front of him as he takes your phone from you to read what you’ve written.   _You bought me for sex, so won’t Nestor want me back now?_

           “We didn’t have sex, Y/N,” Seokjin says, handing your phone back to you and going back to cooking.  You step closer to him, tugging on his elbow so he can look over your shoulder as you type.

 _Y_ _ou know what I mean._   

           “I thought you didn’t want to go back to him.”  

 _I_ _don’t._   

           “Okay, then what’s the problem?  I’ll keep paying for you,” he shrugs, and if he was looking up at you he might have seen the pain flash across your face.  “I mean, it is your job, isn’t it?”  You watch him turn off the eye and grab two plates and forks.  It’s the sound of them hitting the counter that makes you blink and type furiously on your phone, some last strand of patience snapping within you, throwing it down by Seokjin’s hands while you cross your arms over your chest.  

 _I_ _’m supposed to be in school._ Seokjin looks at the note for a moment before looking up at you, picking up your phone slowly to pass back to you.

           “What?” he says.  

 _G_ _rad school. I came here for school._  

           “Why aren’t you, then?”  Frustrated, trying not to cry, you sigh as you write.

_I had to start working for Nestor._

           “Ah,” Seokjin says softly.  When he hands your phone back this time he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you for a stabilizing back hug.  “And you couldn’t do both?”  You shake your head, not that it wouldn’t have been possible, but there were things out of our control.  

 _It’s too late now.  It’s over a month into classes._ Seokjin hums against your neck as you lower your phone, taking a second to think before he responds.  

           “Do you want to go?”  

 _Of course. Already paid and everything_ you type easily _.  But it’s too late now._   

           “Nonsense. Let’s go today.”  You turn your head to look at him, wondering if he ever went to college and has forgotten how they won’t care or if he has just been handed everything in his life.  

 _We can’t just show up_  you tell him, frowning.   He won’t hear it, though, unwrapping himself from your back to serve the food.  

           “Of course we can.  Come and eat.”  You watch him eat, quickly as always, and pour himself his coffee, your presence not forgotten but not distracting for him.  The food is almost cold by the time you sit down to eat, still watching Seokjin as he calls someone on his phone.  He is someone clearly used to getting his way, and while you think whatever you’re going to go do will be futile and just embarrassing and uncomfortable for you in the end, you already know better than to contradict him too much or to resist whatever he wants to do.  There is a part of you that wants him to take charge, anyway, to speak for you and take care of what you can’t take care of in your current state.  

           “Namjoon?” he says on the phone, moving around the kitchen as he cleans.  “Need you to move any meetings today…Also, do we still have any connections over at Graham Reilly?  Yeah? No, not Kookie…Yeah, he’ll be with me…No, Y/N…Yeah, I’ll tell you later…No, Namjoon…What?” he sighs, letting his cup clink sharply in the sink.  “I thought I told Yoongi not to pay him anymore?  Okay…Well, remind him to stop.  I want to see what he does…Yes, I’m serious.  Should I call him myself and let him know?  Okay, thanks, Joon.”  Even though he’s just hung up, Seokjin is already texting someone else and looking at the clock as he does so, glancing up at you once to make sure you were still eating.  “I’m going to wait downstairs for Kookie, so come down when you’re ready, okay?” he says, waiting for you to nod before heading back toward his room.  You’ve finally finished eating your breakfast slowly, too many thoughts and doubts keeping you from hurrying by the time he comes back to the kitchen.  He gives you another glance as if to check on you before heading out the door, and it’s only then do you start to move quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting.

 

           He isn’t exactly known for his patience, and working for Kim Seokjin has not helped him get any better at one of his biggest flaws, because his boss is always on time.  Is anal about it, almost, to a greatly annoying extent.  Well, it had annoyed Jungkook at first, but he’s come to appreciate the man’s punctuality.  That’s partially why this past week has made him a little annoyed, as annoyed as he feels safe being with Seokjin, because instead of coming down between 8:00-8:05, his boss has seemed to meander out of the elevator whenever he’s felt like it. Jungkook isn’t even sure why he’s so annoyed, since he has nothing else to do but his job, and if Seokjin wants him to sit and wait in the car all day then he would.  He’d just like to be told how long he’s going to be waiting for. Plus, he worked Seokjin hard in the ring yesterday, and he’s feeling it himself, especially in his hands that are gripping the steering wheel.  He supposes he could get out and talk to Seungkwan and Wonwoo, but he isn’t exactly fans of the two, and after his meeting with the latter he hasn’t been what you might call chomping-at-the-bit to buddy up to him.  He doesn’t even get out when Seokjin comes out of the elevator and starts talking to the two.  

           It’s on the emergence of the girl that makes him open his door to help her and his boss into the back seat.  He’s not sure why she’s going with them today, but he knows it’s not really his business. She looks as exhausted and skittish as the last time he had seen her, but she still gives him a smile that feels like it is reserved just for him, and if it wasn’t for his boss coming up behind her and putting an arm around her waist, he might have felt some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate as he smiled back.

           “We need to go to Graham Reilly this morning, Kookie.”

           “Graham—What for?” Jungkook says, his eyes narrowing.  His boss sighs a little, but the look he gives Jungkook, even if it is exasperated, doesn’t mean he is upset at him, just at life and the situations he can’t control.  It’s a small sigh, but it’s filled with a lot of meaning for them both, and that is one reason why Jungkook doesn’t mind asking.

           “Y/N here is supposed to be in classes right now.”  Jungkook looks at the girl in surprise.  She doesn’t strike him as someone to skip classes, but he assumes her unexpected muteness might have something to do with her avoidance of the university.  “I’d like you to accompany us, if that is alright, Kookie.”

           “Yeah, of course, boss,” Jungkook says immediately, even if he does feel a little squeamish about the idea of visiting his alma mater.

           “It’s a big campus,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook opens the door for them to get in, not wanting to hear anything else.  By the time he’s back in his seat, Seokjin is tapping on the back of his chair as he leans forward a bit.  “Y/N says she’s a grad student.  English department.  So it won’t even be in the same building.”

           “It’s not a problem, boss,” Jungkook says honestly now that he’s heard that.  Seokjin relents and leans back to buckle himself in, and while it’s dangerous, his eyes start to glaze over a bit as he drives, the route still familiar even after two years.

           He knows, as he’s sure the girl must, that colleges do not care about students not showing up to class.  They care about getting paid.  Teachers are not there to actually teach, as they, in general, do not actually want to help students learn or better themselves, they are just there to impart knowledge.  A great lecturer, a great speaker, makes a great teacher not.  He’s sure Seokjin hasn’t forgotten this, or maybe his boss just doesn’t care, will get what he wants regardless of the rules.  Jungkook isn’t going to stop him from trying, certainly. He likes watching him work, likes when he’s invited to meetings and gets to see people break down in front of Seokjin’s cool demeanor and cold glare and composed emotions.  The girl hasn’t been privy to his abilities yet, as far as Jungkook knew, and he wondered if she had asked for help or if this was all Seokjin’s idea.  Based on how the girl is ducking her head and following slowly behind his boss’ broad, squared shoulders, he imagines it was all Seokjin’s idea.

           The campus hasn’t changed much since the last time he set foot on it, even if there do seem to be less leaves on the trees and more people on the sidewalks. It isn’t as crowded as the mall or as small a space as Seokjin’s building, so he isn’t exactly sure why the girl is walking so close to him as they follow Seokjin.  Perhaps she trusts that he knows where he’s going as she watches their feet.  Perhaps she’s cold.  Perhaps, as Jungkook would like to believe, she wants to be close to him for no other reason than to be near him.  But he doubts that, if the faint mark near her sweater collar is telling him anything. It’s not a bruise like he’s seen on her arm or face before.

           “Hurry up,” he says, too rudely, he knows, because he realizes why his boss has been late every morning now, and the girl almost trips as he picks up his step to get closer to Seokjin and overtake him.  “It’ll be this way,” he tells his boss, pointing as he takes a left. Seokjin hums in response and turns to check on the girl before they both follow him.

           Like Seokjin had said, he never really visited the Humanities building. After his basic classes, when he was still too uninterested to care about making sure his professors knew him in order to make a good impression, he had no need to.  It’s one of the older buildings, which he thinks is a little unfair, even if it makes sense.  The push toward science and math and engineering and even kinesiology has left majors like English and History in the dust at Graham Reilly and many other universities around the nation.  The fake plants downstairs and the lack of windows upstairs makes the building too claustrophobic and depressing, especially for people studying the past and reading books.  That all sounded too depressing enough as is.  There are several professors who have their doors open even this early in the morning, and when they pass one who has a picture of a window on the wall, Jungkook’s heart almost breaks.  It’s so pathetically sad, he wonders why the girl has chosen the school.  

           He stops in the middle of the hallway where there is a young lady busy working on a computer.  A student sits outside of someone’s office, and Jungkook can hear the clicking of keyboards and the low murmur of someone’s voice and an even quieter drone of jazz music playing softly from one of the rooms.  It’s entirely too dark on the entire floor, but it seems to continue to help set the depressing tone for the entire department. Jungkook does not want to be here, really, but when he turns to ask the girl who she needs to speak to and sees how small she looks, how alone and scared as she stares at her feet, he wills himself to be patient.

           “Y/N?” he says, reaching his hand out to her.  His fingers curl up into his palm immediately as he brings his hand back toward himself.  “Who do you need to see?”  They’ve drawn the attention of the girl behind the counter, and Jungkook does not like the way she is looking at Y/N or him or Seokjin.  Something close to curiosity but border lining on annoyance plus some hint of superiority is in her eyes, and she’s an idiot to look at his boss that way.  Y/N hands him her phone, though, and he sees three names listed, so he gives the secretary, or whatever she is, his full attention and best attempt at a charming smile he can muster.  “Hi, could you tell me where these offices are?”  The girl looks at the list with a slight frown before she points to the left and then to the right.

           “Price and Klein are that way.  Dr. Brennan is that way, but he doesn’t have office hours this morning.”

           “No worries,” Jungkook says, handing Y/N her phone back without looking at her. “And is the grad office upstairs or down?”

           “Down,” the girl says, looking more and more suspicious and thus getting on Jungkook’s nerves more and more.

           “And who’s in faculty member in charge of the grad program?”

           “Dr. Brennan.”

           “Figures,” Jungkook says before flashing another smile.  “Thanks so much!”  The girl manages to give one of her own before eyeing Seokjin and Y/N again before she gets back to whatever she was working on.

           “Down boy,” Seokjin chuckles when he sees Jungkook’s face when he turns around, and Jungkook waits until his boss turns around to roll his eyes.  He lets Seokjin lead again because he’s done his part and could even go wait in the car or at least downstairs until they’re done, but the girl pulls on his jacket sleeve as he tries to walk past, shoving her phone in front of him again.  

_You went to school here?_

           “Yeah,” he says, eyeing the girl before nodding.  He is probably standing too close to her as she types, but it will be faster to just look over her shoulder than to wait for her to finish. 

_How was it?_

           “Oh,” he says, shrugging.  “You know, college.  Was fine. Had its ups and downs.”  

 _Does he_ , the girl types, pausing to look down the hall at Seokjin’s back.  She erases what she had put and writes instead _I don’t want to get in trouble or make things worse. What’s he going to do?_   

           “Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, pushing the girl forward a little to make it look like they’re following when Seokjin turns around to eye them from where he’s stopped in front of a door.  “I have no idea.  But I’ve never known him to make a situation worse, so don’t worry about that.”  She looks worried, though, still, even though she nods and puts her phone away.  The door Seokjin’s in front of is slightly ajar, so he doesn’t wait for an answer when he knocks, just pushes the door open more so they can all file in, Jungkook bringing up the rear to make sure the girl enters.      

           “Good morning,” an older man says from behind a desk, looking up as they all troop in.  He has a tiny pair of spectacles on and a plaid button-down shirt complete with a beard, and if Jungkook squints just right he can imagine the man smoking a pipe under a giant willow tree.  Perhaps it’s Seokjin’s look or suit or Jungkook’s stance in the door that makes the man falter.  They probably don’t look like the normal college students he receives in his office, worn down, bags under their eyes, sipping coffee since they can’t just put an IV in their arms directly for it.

           “Please,” Seokjin says, putting out a hand before the man can stand up, “my name is Kim Seokjin, and I’d like to speak to you about one of your students.”

           “Alright,” the man says slowly, eyeing Jungkook and Y/N by the door.  “Please have a seat.”  There are only two in the already too crowded room, so Jungkook stands behind Y/N who sits further away, giving himself a mental note to not lean back against the bookshelf behind him as the thing looks so full one speck of dust will send the whole thing fumbling to the ground and bury them all with the pounds of pages it contains.  “How may I help you?”  There hadn’t seem to have been in recognition in the man’s eyes at Seokjin’s name, and Jungkook isn’t sure if that makes him more or less excited.  It’s rare to meet people who don’t know his boss, if only by name, but he knows that the world of academia is a world of its own.  Still, if the man has worked here for more than two years, Jungkook thinks the name just at least be vaguely familiar.

           “I was wondering if you were aware you were missing a student from one of your classes,” Seokjin says calmly, and that is how his voice will remain, Jungkook knows, as he crosses his legs and folds his arms over his knees.  He’s always resembled a cat observing its prey, biding its time before pouncing, when he gets like this, and Jungkook resists smirking at the picture.

           “Only one?” the man says, leaning back in his chair.  “That would be a first.  I’m aware of several who never bothered to show up, and of even more who showed up the first day and haven’t come back since.  But I’m not sure how that’s any business of yours, unless you’re telling me you’re one of those students, Mr. Kim.  I’m afraid the drop date has already passed.”  Jungkook almost wants to smile again, because he can tell the man is going to try to put up a fight, but he knows from first-hand experience that it will be pointless.

           “Did you not bother to check on why those students never showed up to class in the first place?”  If Jungkook didn’t know his boss better, he would think he was naïve for asking such a question, because Jungkook can almost predict what the man will say next.

           “I don’t believe it is my job to do such a thing,” the man says.  Dr. Price, if Jungkook remembers the placard on the door correctly.

           “A student doesn’t show up to class and you think it’s no business of yours to check on where he or she might be?”

           “Students pay to be here, Mr. Kim.  It is up to them whether they want to show up or not.  I am not here to babysit, only teach.”  Seokjin hums for a moment, leaning back and observing the man closely.

           “But what if something were to happen, and, against your student’s will, they were unable to show up to class.”

           “Well,” Dr. Price says, clearly trying to imagine such a scenario, “they would have to let me know.  There are, of course, things that happen in our lives outside of our control.”

           “And if the student could not let you know?”

           “I am not sure what you mean, Mr. Kim,” the professor finally says.  “Are you the student in question, or is it one of you two?”  He eyes Jungkook and Y/N with his question, and Jungkook, for some reason, grabs the back of Y/N’s chair.

           “I am not referring to myself,” Seokjin says.  “Nor Kookie.  He’s my driver and bodyguard.”  He feels a bit like a mating peacock, but Jungkook stands up a little straighter as his boss’ words.  He’s not the most intimidating physically, but his actions are habit by this point in this matter.  “This is Y/N. She is in one of your grad classes this semester.”

           “I see,” the man says.  “But I haven’t seen you in class yet.  Like I said, the drop date has already passed, and you have missed so many classes I am afraid there is no way for you to catch up now.  Is this your first semester here?  You’ll be put on academic probation for failing your classes, you know, and lose any scholarships you might have.”  The man needs to shut up, Jungkook thinks, because he can see Y/N breathing heavily as she keeps her head ducked.  She’s holding her phone in her hands in her lap, and he wants her to say something, anything, or at least type something, to defend herself before he opens his own mouth, but Seokjin beats them both to it.  Jungkook tries to relax, since his boss knows what he’s doing and is better at it than Jungkook, who only feels his patience wearing thin.

           “That is exactly what we’ve come to talk to you about,” Seokjin says, still calm. “Y/N has had a very unfortunate accident that has, up until today, left her unable to attend her classes.  We are aware the drop date is past, as you have reminded us of, but she is not going to flunk out her first semester here.  She is going to come to her classes and catch up.”

           “Mr. Kim,” Dr. Price says with a small snort, and he looks like that girl in the hallway, some glimmer of superiority in his eyes, and he is really dumb for thinking he is ever going to be above Seokjin in any way.  “Did you go to college?”  Jungkook knows the small smile Seokjin gives the man is the reason why he is the boss and not Jungkook, because Jungkook almost leaps across the room to smack the man for such an idiot question.  It’s a power move, but the wrong one.  “I am sure you remember how our policies work.  Students who miss more than two classes will have their final grade reduced by a letter.  As Y/N here has missed almost ten classes, there really is no way for her to pass the semester.”  Jungkook hates that the man isn’t even addressing the girl anymore, is only speaking to Seokjin.  Even if she isn’t talking, she deserves to have a say in what is happening, so he puts his hand as gently as he can on her shoulder.  She twitches slightly under his touch but stills again, still holding her phone in her lap.

           “She is going to come to class,” Seokjin says.  “And you are going to waive your policy for attendance for her.  And she will catch up on the work.  And Kookie here will accompany her to class to make sure she is treated fairly like every other student.”  Seokjin’s ability to not ask question and simply make demands never fails to fascinate Jungkook, and he doesn’t even care at the moment about the extra job his boss has just given him.  The professor, however, almost laughs.

           “Mr. Kim, I’m sorry, I do know who you are, but I just can not believe you think you can walk into my office and demand such things for someone who isn’t even family.  You aren’t her lawyer, are you?  So why are you speaking for her?”  Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest.  He’s not sure if he’s impressed now that he knows the man did recognize Seokjin’s name or if he’s annoyed at how dumb the man continued to be in trying to hold it over him.

           “Because she can not speak for herself,” Seokjin says simply.

           “What do you mean?”

           “As I said, Y/N has had a unfortunate accident, and it has rendered her unable to speak as she once did.  She has not been clinically diagnosed yet, though she is seeing a psychologist, and if you need some sort of paperwork to prove why she is coming to class so late, then I can have my doctor do that.  But if you really know who I am, Dr. Price, then I suggest you do your best to work with me.”  Jungkook can only see Seokjin’s profile, but he recognizes the stare he is giving the man easily and keeps himself from smirking.  The prey is down.

           “What do you mean she can’t talk?  Y/N?  Can you not speak?”  Y/N shifts a little in her seat, but she looks up at Seokjin, not the professor, clearly distraught.  

           “She has learned a few words,” Seokjin answers.  “Yes and no, for instance.  She is only temporarily mute, and I am positive her speech will return later. For the time being, she types or writes and responds well when given easy questions.  Isn’t that right, Y/N?”  His boss turns and looks at the girl for the first time since entering the room, and he smiles softly at her.  She nods at him before whispering a quick,

           “Yes.”

           “You would make accommodations for students with disabilities, would you not, Dr. Price?” Seokjin says before the man can get in another question.

           “Yes, of course,” comes the smart answer.  “I’ve just never—”

           “We have other people to talk to,” Seokjin says, standing up, “so if you’ll excuse us.  I’m sure they will agree that Y/N deserves a chance to stay, don’t you agree?”  The professor nods once but keeps his lips pressed together.  “Do you have class today?”

           “At ten,” he says.

           “Do you have a syllabus on you?  Y/N will need to know the room number.”  The man reaches for a binder easily and pulls out a packet which he promptly starts to hand to Seokjin, but Seokjin is already headed out the door.  The girl scurries to stand up, bowing slightly to Dr. Price as she takes the papers from him.

           “Thank you,” Jungkook hears her mumble, and he sees the man’s eyebrow raise before she follows Seokjin out.  Jungkook decides to give the man one more look before leaving as well.  He pulls the door almost all the way shut like they had found it and takes a deep breath, but Seokjin is already headed to the next office, a Dr. Klein’s.  The man’s door is thrown wide open and is much brighter than the previous one.  It’s from this room that the jazz music is flowing from, and Jungkook likes this professor already.  His long gray hair is tied back in a ponytail and he has a Rolling Stones shirt on with a blazer over it and a pair of jeans on.  He looks at least fifty but is trying to look twenty, and Jungkook can’t help but admire his obvious eccentric nature.

           “Morning!” he greets immediately, slamming the book shut that he’s got in his lap.  “Oh, this looks serious,” he adds immediately when he sees Seokjin, but Jungkook notices his boss give the man a small smile and a wave of his hand before he sticks it out.

           “I hope not too serious,” Seokjin says, shaking the man’s hand, “considering I’ve only had one cup of coffee.”

           “Is this a two-cup kind of conversation, Mister?”

           “Kim.  Kim Seokjin,” Seokjin says, dropping his hand and finding himself a seat to sit in.  “This is my driver Kookie and Y/N, who is one of your students.”

           “Y/N?” the man says, eyeing the girl.  The office is just as small as Mr. Price’s was even if it feels less crowded, the multiple lamps on giving it a less depressing feel than the rest of the building.  Still, Jungkook is close enough to Y/N’s back to feel her stiffen a little before she looks up and nods.  “Y/L/N Y/N?” The girl nods again and part of her melts a little in front of Jungkook.  The man comes out from behind his desk and sticks out both of his hands to the girl, and she quickly puts out one of her hands, too, bowing in the oddly formal way she does once he’s shaking her hand.  “I was wondering where you had disappeared to!”  Jungkook is glad his reflexes are fast, grabbing Y/N’s hip as she sways once the professor lets go of her hand.  Dr. Klein obviously notices, his brows furrowing, and he points to the other unoccupied chair in front of his desk.  “Please, sit. Are you alright?”  The girl nods as Jungkook guides her to the chair, and he lets go reluctantly but goes to stand by the door anyway, stuffing his unoccupied hands in his pockets while he watches.  “When your e-mails stopped and you didn’t show up, I got pretty worried. But the office hadn’t heard from you, and neither had your other teachers.  Are you sure you’re alright?  What happened?”  When Jungkook sees the girl’s shoulders start to shake, he almost reaches for her again, but Seokjin is closer, and he reaches a hand out to put on her thigh, so Jungkook keeps his place.

           “We are still trying to figure that out,” he says.  “But she isn’t able to speak much right now.  She wants to come to class and not face the absent rule which I’m sure you have as well.”

           “Of course,” the man says quickly, looking at Y/N and not Seokjin.  “We have class tomorrow at one.  Can you make it?”  The girl nods, and Jungkook’s new favorite person smiles.  “Good, good.  Let me get you the syllabus.  Do you have your books yet?”

           “No,” Y/N says as loud as she probably can be, and the man reaches for a book in his shelf to hand her.

           “We already finished this one, so I’d suggest you read it quickly.  The book store might have a few left of the rest, though you know Amazon is probably cheaper.”  He winks as he hands Y/N the book, and Jungkook wants to hug him when the girl smiles.  “Now, I taught a Deaf person once, with an interpreter.  Until you can participate verbally in class, what’s your plan?”  He is still asking Y/N, and Seokjin doesn’t answer as she looks back at Jungkook and gives him a look.

           “I’ll sit in classes with her,” Jungkook says, standing up straighter and taking his hands out of his pockets.  “She types really fast, and I know how to read.”  He realizes it sounds stupid coming out of his mouth, but Y/N and Dr. Klein smile.

           “Perfect,” the man says, slapping his knee.  “We’ll be happy to have you as well, then.  Who else do you have this semester, Y/N?”

           “Price and Brennan,” Seokjin says, and Dr. Klein frowns.

           “Brennan should be alright, though he’s so caught up in the bureaucratic side of things that he might put up a fuss.  Price…”

           “We already spoke to,” Seokjin says with a smile, and Dr. Klein nods.

           “Good, good.  He’d be a fool not to let you in his class, Y/N.  Like I told you this summer, we’re glad you’re here.  You’ll make a great addition to our team.”  Y/N nods again, still smiling.  “So do let me know if Brennan gives you any trouble.”

           “We appreciate the offer,” Seokjin says, standing up.  “Though I don’t think I will need anything help persuading him.”

           “No, I doubt you will,” Dr. Klein laughs, “if you’re the Kim Seokjin I know of.” Jungkook definitely likes this guy, but the next thing he says makes him pull his hands out, clenched into fists. “Dr. Moore was my friend.” Seokjin is buttoning his blazer as he raises an eyebrow and looks at the professor.  Dr. Klein looks out his non-existent window before sighing.  “So it was a real shame to hear he would stoop that low.  Do let me know if I can help in any way.”  He smiles at Seokjin and Jungkook and lastly Y/N, and Jungkook relaxes.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Y/N.”  The girl nods before standing up, gathering everything she’s been handed.

           “Thank you,” she says, smiling widely, and Dr. Klein nods his head at her as they leave.

           “My pleasure.  I am glad you’re alright.”  They take their leave quickly, and Seokjin huffs once they’re in the hallway and have walked away from the office.

           “Academics.  Real assholes.”

           “He wasn’t so bad,” Jungkook offers, pointing back toward Dr. Klein’s door.

           “Just shows he’s the smarter of the two.  Y/N,” Seokjin says, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.  “You let me or Kookie know the second he treats you poorly.  I’m not worried about it too much if Kookie is with you, but still.”  Y/N nods, shifting the book and paper in his arms.  “Okay,” Seokjin says, looking at his phone.  “You have twenty minutes until class with the fat one.  I’ll call Namjoon to come get me, so you stay here, Kookie.  See if you can go get the rest of your books or just get a feel for the place, yeah?”

           “Are you sure, boss?” Jungkook says, but Seokjin’s nod cuts him off.

           “Just take her back home whenever she wants.  You’ll be alright, little one?” Seokjin says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper as he puts his hand on Y/N’s head.  Jungkook finds a flier on a bulletin board that attracts all of his attention.  There’s a grammar mistake on it that even he can spot, and something about that makes his blood boil.

           “Seok,” Y/N says, and all the grammar mistakes in the world couldn’t keep him from whipping his head around to stare at the girl, blinking rapidly at the odd name on her lips.  “Thank you,” she says, not paying any attention to Jungkook.  His boss smiles fondly down at her and places a kiss to her forehead before rubbing the back of her neck once and letting go.

           “Of course.  You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

           “Yeah,” she says, nodding, and Jungkook gives his boss a bow out of habit as he walks off.  She shifts the supplies in her arms one more time which has Jungkook rolling his eyes. It’s surely just his impatience that makes him reach for the burden, settling everything in one of his arms as he throws his head in the opposite direction that Seokjin has gone.

           “Let’s go find your classroom,” he says, not waiting for her to reply before he starts walking off.  

 

           Jungkook is not stupid.  He had a 3.2 as an undergrad which he sometimes thinks was a miracle considering how disorganized and uninterested he was his freshman year.  He’s always struggled with math, but he’s pretty good at anything he has ever put his mind to.  But he was so done when he graduated.  Never wanted to set foot in a classroom again.  So he isn’t exactly excited to be sitting by Y/N in one now.  They had managed to stop by the bookstore on the way and still weren’t late, so she has something to write on and with now, and she looks like a kid on her first day of school.  Her eyes are wide and she looks nervous even though there is a small smile on her lips.  Jungkook wonders what she is worried about.  If she’s in grad school, she must be smart.  Perhaps it’s the professor, the fat one from earlier that he doesn’t like. Y/N insisted on sitting near the front, which was something Jungkook had never done.  He liked to keep his head down and keep his business to himself. She looks small and cute sitting in the rotating chair with her paper in front of her, her pencil at attention.

           He feels out of place for several reasons, one being his outfit.  He wears slacks and a button-down shirt when he is working for Seokjin, and he’s not surprised with the repetitive looks he gets as people file in.  It’s a small class, literally only one other boy once thirteen other people are in the room, and that’s only one other reason why Jungkook feels out of place.  The material is what completely throws him off.  He has no idea what Dr. Price or anyone else in the room is talking about. And they are talking a lot.  In fact, it’s all they seem to do.  Dr. Price hardly writes anything on the board, but even if he was Jungkook isn’t proud enough to not admit he doesn’t know what’s going on.  He watches Y/N take a lot of notes, but she doesn’t bother him, merely observes.  It’s only toward the end of class when Jungkook almost completely loses it, because Dr. Price turns to her as if he’s just now seeing her and says,

           “Oh, everyone, this is Y/N, who finally bothered to join us for the rest of the semester.  Do you have anything to say to add to our discussion today?”  Jungkook knows Y/N is beautiful.  Has known it since the first night he saw her.  But he thinks he really sees her for the first time as she grits her teeth even as her hand shakes.  He’s surprised the pencil doesn’t break in her grasp, and for a second he expects her to go on a tirade.  He knows he would have already if he was in her seat, because Dr. Price is being a dick. But, unlike him, she is clearly patient, because she says,

           “No.”  Jungkook wants to punch whoever snickers, and he even turns around to see who the culprit is, but Y/N brings her hand down on his leg and squeezes hard enough for him to once again wonder how her pencil hasn’t snapped in two.  She scribbles hard under her clean, detailed, extensive notes one word in her all-cap handwriting:  _home._  He takes the hand on his leg off gently but doesn’t let her go as he nods and stands up, sending the professor one last glare as they leave the room.  Class isn’t over for another fifteen minutes, he knows, but the man doesn’t deserve their respect, and his job is to take care of Y/N, so he doesn’t care about any looks or whispers anyone gives them.

           The girl gets into the front seat without asking, and Jungkook doesn’t question it this time.  He drives her back to Seokjin’s, trying not to count how many times the girl sighs, though he stops after he gets to twelve.  She fiddles with the books in her lap and the pencil in her hand and her phone and her own fingers and just sighs, and Jungkook wishes there was something he could do.  He’s not stupid, but he can’t help her.  So he drops her off with another reminder to text or call if she needs anything and a promise that he’ll take her to campus tomorrow for her afternoon class.  Even though he has no desire to sit and listen to someone lecture about something he can’t follow at all, he is impatient, and he can’t wait to see Y/N again the next day even if she only sits quietly behind him and sighs.

 

           You feel like others may describe you as patient, especially as the last month or so has been so out of your control that you have had to just carry on and not let yourself get trampled by life.  You don’t feel particularly patient, though.  You feel hopeless.  Part of you is grateful Seokjin took you to school, that he spoke for you and made them understand that you deserved to be welcomed into their classes.  But you are so behind that the work load is overwhelming. You knew grad school would be a lot by itself, but missing so many classes only meant that it looked impossible. It feels a little pointless, but you sit down in Seokjin’s living room the moment you’re home and start reading. Others may call you patient, but you would just say you’re persistent, desperate, because you sit for hours and read and take notes without taking a break.  You work so long that your stomach has to remind you that it’s dinner time and you never even ate lunch, but it’s your phone ringing that makes you finally stop.  Only a few people have your new number, but you’re still surprised someone is calling you. Still, when you see Seokjin’s name on the screen you answer quickly, waiting for him to speak first on the other end.  He sounds a little bit out of breath.

           “Y/N?”

           “Yes?”

           “Yes, hi.  Are you at home?”

           “Yes,” you say, glad the questions are easy so far.

           “You weren’t answering my texts,” he says, sounding concerned but a little annoyed, too.  You open your mouth to apologize but only manage an “s” sound.  “It’s okay, little one.  Just, hang on.”  You do, waiting as you hear a beeping sound and a few clicks on the other end of the line. “I am really sorry, Y/N, but I have to go out of town today.  Something’s come up with one of my associates, and I unfortunately have to be there in person to deal with it.  I’m not sure how long it will take.  Hopefully only a few days.  Listen,” he says, someone talking to him in the background and distracting him for a minute.  “Y/N?”

           “Yeah, Seok.”

           “Kookie will take care of you while I’m gone, okay?  Go to class, study hard.  Be good.  Don’t worry. Remember you’re safe.  Meet with Jimin if you can, okay?”

           “Yeah,” you say, deflating against the back of the couch.  “Seok?”

           “Yes, little one?” Seokjin says, so patiently.  You sigh, unsure of what to say.  He mumbles something to someone before his voice is clearer again.  “How was class?  Was class good?”

           “Yeah,” you lie, staring at the mess of notes in front of you.

           “Good.  I’m glad. Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

           “Yeah,” you say, trying not to sigh again.

           “Take care, Y/N.  I’ll let you know when I land and when I can come back.”

           “Yeah,” you say again, ready to hang up.  Seokjin beats you to it, though, and you throw your phone on the table by the book you’ve abandoned.  Your eyes hurt, and your stomach is growling, so you go to warm something up to eat. Once again the apartment seems too big and too quiet for one person, and you wonder if that’s one reason why Seokjin is hardly ever home.  You’re left alone with only your thoughts as you eat and when you shower.  Seokjin’s chair sits empty when you come back to the living room dressed for bed, and you slump back on the floor to try to get more work done.  You don’t last long this time, the silence too suffocating.  Plus your eyes keep threatening to water to the point of spilling over.  It’s too early for bed, but you pad to the guest room anyway and crawl under the covers.

           Everything seems colder than last night, and whenever you close your eyes you can see Dr. Price and his students staring at you with such disdain you can hear their whispers as if they are standing in the room now with you.  You don’t want to disappoint them or fail.  You want to do well.  Dr. Klein had given you hope that summer that you were going to be a fit, and his words again today helped you feel that again.  But you are so behind.  And so alone now.  And despite what Seokjin and the others have said, you do not feel safe without someone there.  It’s not that you expect Nestor to suddenly show up at the door, but you feel like someone is watching you, waiting to pull at you, to force you down, to hold you so you can’t move.  You mutter a curse under your breath because any will do as you fling off your covers and unlock your phone.

**Me (9:14PM):**

Kookie?

Can you come get me?

 **Kookie (9:16PM):**  
yeah

you ok?

wehre?

**Me (9:17PM):**

Seokjin’s

**Kookie (9:18PM):**

give me t10

I’ll come up

          Perhaps you’re too presumptuous, but you have a feeling Jungkook will do what you ask, and if he doesn’t, you aren’t above pulling his boss’ name into the conversation, so you get out of bed and go to find a bag from Seokjin’s closet to fill.  You do as Jungkook asked and wait for him in the kitchen, a little surprised when the door flings open almost exactly ten minutes later.  He’s breathing hard as if he took the stairs and ran the whole way instead of taking the elevator after driving, and he’s changed since you saw him last.  His eyes dart around the place while a hand is stuffed in his pocket.

           “You okay?” he says fiercely, and you nod quickly, typing on your phone.  

 _Seokjin left._   

           “Oh,” Jungkook sighs, taking his hand out of his pocket to put on the counter.  “Shit.  Yeah, I know. So everything’s okay?  You scared me.”  

 _Sorry_ , you write, hanging your head.  

           “Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” Jungkook says, reaching for your arm.  He runs his hand down your sweater once before withdrawing, clearing his throat.  “Do you, uh, need something?”  

 _Can I come stay with you?_ you write, and you actually have to look at your phone again to make sure it hasn’t gone to sleep when Jungkook only blinks at it.   _Sorry_ , you start again, hating yourself a little for what you put next.   _But Seokjin said you were supposed to_ —Jungkook grabs your phone and sticks it in his pocket, picking up your bag from the floor and throwing his head at you.  

           “Let’s go,” he says, and you hide a smile as you follow close behind him.

           The boy looks a little reckless as he drives, and you use the short ride to look at the way he’s dressed.  His hair has lost what products it seemed to have earlier, the strands in disarray over his forehead.  He’s wearing casual clothes, ripped jeans and a giant black hoodie, and he looks younger like this, more carefree even if he also seems more on edge as he grips the steering wheel.  You hang your head when he glances over you at a stop light, feeling bad for bothering him and intruding on his personal space.  By the time he pulls into a small lot, you have your phone ready with an explanation.  You wait until he turns the car off to show it to him, and it takes your phone slowly from your hand.  

 _I don’t want to be a bother.  I just figure this will save time tomorrow with you driving me. And I’d rather you be at your place than at Seokjin’s, because I know how awkward it can be to be in someone else’s place.  I’ll just sleep in your guest room and stay out of the way.  I’m quiet._ You hope he’ll smile at your attempt at a joke, but he only sighs as he hands your phone back as he gets out of the car.

           “I don’t have a guest room,” he says.  You don’t wait for him to come around and open your door, but you do let him take your bag as you follow him in.  There’s a keypad on the outside of the building and an elevator, but you only go up to the third floor, and Jungkook uses a regular key to open the door. His apartment is normal sized.  There’s a couch in the living room and a normal-sized TV and a small kitchen and a lovely brick wall with a bicycle hanging from it and one bookshelf that’s only half-full and two stools by an island, not even a kitchen table, and the whole room screams quaint and already feels more like a home than Seokjin’s ever has.  Jungkook walks down a narrow hallway immediately after kicking off his shoes, and you take yours off, too, before following him.  His room is simple and dark, the bed messy and unmade, a small desk with an elaborate desktop and an impressive desk chair stand in the corner, the screen still bright with some game paused on it.  He has a small closet that he opens and puts your bag down in before standing with his hands on his hips.

           “Just give me a second and I’ll be out,” he says, nodding once before moving, but you step in front of him on his way to what you assume is the bathroom.

           “No,” you say, and he cocks his head at you.  You hurry to type on your phone, looking up at him as you do.   _I’ll sleep on the couch._ But the boy only laughs once.

           “Like Seokjin would ever let me do that to you,” he says, brushing past you. You follow him to the bathroom, and he eyes you in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, an eyebrow raised.   _Then sleep with me,_  you write, holding your phone up.  He looks at it through the mirror and almost chokes on his foamy toothpaste when he figures it out.  Rolling your eyes, you smack him on his shoulder lightly.

           “No,” you say, writing him another note.   _I don’t want to be an inconvenience._ “Please?” you add, but Jungkook shakes his head.

           “Seokjin wouldn’t allow it.”

           “Seok,” you say, sighing, “no.”   _He doesn’t have to know._ Jungkook pushes your phone back to you even as he shakes his head.

           “Y/N,” he says, “no.”  You know you’re being a brat, and a little manipulative, but part of you just doesn’t want to be a burden, and the other part of you was the reason you texted the boy in the first place.  You don’t want to be alone. 

_Seokjin said you would take care of me._

           “I’m not,” Jungkook says, staring at you before sighing and shaking his head, enough so that his bangs fall into his eyes a little. “I didn’t pay to touch you.  So I’m not going to.”  Still clutching your phone, you push him, your hands colliding with his chest with enough force to make him lose his balance as he stumbles back. You want to scream at him, but you want to cry, too.  Your head is hurting from staring at those books for too long.  Your heart is hurting from the way Dr. Price treated you.  You just want to sleep and feel safe and hopefully wake up suddenly being able to talk again.  You open your mouth to say something, anything, but only a sigh and a strange sound comes out, something like a groan and a whine.  Jungkook is looking at you, a little shocked, his mouth opens, too, and when he raises a hand toward you, you step back, looking back at your phone.  

 _I didn’t mean sex, you idiot.  I’m just scared and lonely and tired of not being able to talk, okay?_ You don’t look at him when you show him the message, too exhausted and embarrassed and sorry for ever hitting him.  You didn’t want to be that kind of person, but you had never been what you considered particularly patient.  Jungkook says your name, but you walk back to his bed, still clad in your pajamas, and climb into it, turning away from him.  It feels and smells warm and clean and like Jungkook, a scent you can’t quiet pinpoint.  You figure he’s watching you, though he is silent, but you close your eyes.  After a while, the room is filled with various noises. He opens a drawer and takes out some clothes.  He goes back to the bathroom, flushes the toilet, runs the sink.  His chair by his desk is rolling across the floor a few inches.  He clicks with his mouse and types on the keyboard.  He mutters under his breath a few times, and then he is quiet.  The computer stops humming, its fan and processors shutting down for the night.  His chair moves again, and if you couldn’t hear him breathing, you would think he had left the room.  You realize he’s contemplating, or waiting for something, or weighing the pros and cons of the situation, and he must think you’re asleep, because he jumps a little when you sigh and roll over, opening your eyes.

           “Hey,” he mutters, looking away.  He’s not wearing a shirt anymore, or pants, and even in the dark you can see how toned he is, can see a long, jagged scar running up his thigh.  You raise his blanket and pat the side of the bed that’s empty next to you.  His bed isn’t as big as Seokjin’s, or even the guest one you’ve been sleeping on, but there is plenty of room left for him.  “I really can just—”

           “No,” you say, patting the bed again.  He seems to think about it one last time before sighing himself and taking the cover from you.  Once he’s lying on his side facing you, you smile at him.  “Thank you,” you whisper.

           “Sure,” he says, “no problem.”  You think he’s lying, since if it was no problem he would have relented much sooner, but you’re just glad he’s there, and you roll back over to close your eyes. You’re thankful you fall asleep quickly now, because you really don’t think you’re a patient person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jin got a little creepy in this chapter, sorry. I was thinking, I don’t want people to think he is THE bad guy, but he has only been portrayed as good so far, and you need to know he is human and has flaws and may not have the purest motives. So thus this chapter was born. Also, wow, talk about positive reinforcement. Plus being a people pleaser. Plus responding to words of affirmation. Y/N is clearly all of those things. I mean, some of you may just think Jin is being sweet here, and he is asking for consent and doing all of those good things. But I’m also like “Okay, but what’s your motive, buddy?” Anyway. I’m the writer, and it matters more in this case what the readers think about his actions. So?
> 
> There are several backstory things being hinted at or revealed in this chapter. I hope you caught them.
> 
> Yeah, okay, maybe I had a personal rant about teachers and those who think lecturing makes them good at their job. So what. I honestly had some great college professors who were great teachers and great people, so of course I don’t 100% agree with what I wrote above. But yeah. The comment was meant more as a way to show Jungkook’s perspective on the whole thing. 
> 
> The humanities building they enter is totally based off of one from my college. It was so depressing and old and sad. Sigh.
> 
> Dr. Klein is based on two of my professors who I both admire very much. Shout out, woo.
> 
> *GASPS* AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED?!? Sorry. I mean, with Jungkook’s character, it would simply be impractical for him to have a guest room. And no one actually likes sleeping on their couch. Let’s be honest. (Or maybe you do, idk)
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	7. Pretending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Jungkook and Y/N to spend some quality time together, aw.
> 
> Also, please have a meme picture of Jungkook in mind for this chapter :)
> 
> Italics are things Y/N has written/typed. Hopefully I caught them all because Tumblr is dumb.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

           His first instinct is to push, push like she had pushed him in his own bathroom last night, push like that time Yoongi had sent a girl flying off of his lap in the club, push like the way he did when Wonwoo provoked him weeks ago. He starts to, actually puts his hand that’s not crushed under his own weight on her shoulder, but his hand only curls around to her back instead.  But then he withdraws it and tries to scoot away from her without falling off of his own bed, because an image of Seokjin flashes through his mind. 

           He blinks the sleep away from his eyes and watches the girl sleep.  Her hair looks too fake, too black, too straight as it falls in her face.  She looks fragile, breakable, maybe already a little broken.  And all Jungkook can think about is all of the ways he has seen Seokjin kill people over the years.  No, he doesn’t need to use his imagination much for that, because Seokjin is predictable. When he first got to know him, he realized the man loved to tease, and he was afraid that would correlate into his work and how he dealt with subordination, but Seokjin doesn’t allow torture.  It’s one reason why Jungkook agreed to start working for him.  But he can easily see himself sitting in a chair, not even bound, because he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to escape, Seokjin pressing a cold gun into his mouth. He’d probably say something like,

           “I trusted you.  I’m so disappointed,” before he fired, splattering Jungkook’s brains all over the wall.  Yeah, it’s not exactly an image that makes Jungkook feel good about the position he’s in, and he curses under his breath when his phone vibrates on his nightstand. Fumbling, he jolts up and unhooks it.

           “Speak of the devil,” he breaths.

**Boss (6:32AM):**

Y/N has class at 1 and then at 5 today

Call me in between for an update

**Jungkook (6:33AM):**

Yes sir

**Boss (6:34AM):**

Let me know how Brennan is, yeah?

**Jungkook (6:34AM):**

On it sir

**Boss (6:35AM):**

And Kookie

Don’t tell Y/N yet

But I won’t be home anytime soon

Torres is being a pain

**Jungkook (6:37AM):**

Sure you don’t need me?

 **Boss (6:40AM):**  
No, I brought Hoseok

Which means Jimin might need looking after, too

**Jungkook (6:41AM):**

Will do boss

**Boss (6:42AM):**

Also, Nestor needs looking into

Get Yoongi and Tae to go with you this week, okay?

**Jungkook (6:43AM):**

Yes sir

           Jungkook sighs, putting his phone down and resting against his headboard.  He hadn’t expected to be playing babysitter to two people, and he can’t help but worry that Jimin will be worse than Y/N.  Without Hoseok around, the boy tended to make a lot of poor, rash decisions. He would have to make sure Taehyung was aware and available.  He knew he wasn’t busy, but he might need a reminder that Jimin was going to be lonely for at least a few days as motivation to get off his lazy ass and do something.  

           And it’s not that he didn’t trust Hoseok.  The boy used to be Seokjin’s bodyguard before he came along, but he feels the pride he can’t help of knowing he’s better.  He supposes, as he sighs, that that’s why Seokjin left him with Y/N.  He looks at his phone again, all the while tracing the scar on his thigh absentmindedly, and even though Seokjin hasn’t said anything else, he wonders if he should tell him she’s currently lying beside him.  Wonders if “what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him” is actually a good way to live his life, or if “ask for forgiveness, not permission” is, either.  He doubts it.  But the girl had wanted him to sleep next to her, and she was right in that he was supposed to take care of her.  He can’t pretend that he was a little confused and yet relieved when she not only texted him in the first place, but also asked him to stay in bed with her.  He sighs again and gets up before he does something stupid like run his fingers through his hair.  He hasn’t had to not take Seokjin to work in a long time, so his body isn’t going to let himself go back to sleep, anyway, so he showers and gets dressed and goes to make a bowl of cereal.  He sits cross legged on his couch as he munches, wondering what he can do today, and contemplates for so long that when a girl emerges around the corner, he almost chokes at the unusual image of a beautiful woman wearing a long sweater that makes it hard to see she is wearing shorts in his apartment.

           “Morning,” he says after he’s finished coughing.

           “Yeah,” she yawns, rubbing at her eyes.

           “I, uh, do not cook.  But there’s cereal.”

           “Cool,” she says, “thanks.”  She scratches at her stomach under her shirt before moving, and Jungkook swallows instead of chewing the bite he’s just taken, choking a little again.  She moves toward the kitchen but opens up a few cabinets before flopping her hands down.  “Bowls?” she frowns, and Jungkook points even if she isn’t looking at him.

           “Further one, to the right.”

           “Why are they way over here?” the girl mutters, letting out an “ah-ha” when she finds them.  Jungkook can only blink as he watches her fill a bowl and start to eat, her eyes blinking rapidly and opening more and more with each bite.  She’s about ten in, the bowl being held close to her chest when she stops mid chew.  Her eyes fly open and she stares over at Jungkook, whose mouth opens to say something. Before he can, though, her fingers tremble enough for the bowl to topple out of her grasp.  It hits the counter first, cracking slightly, the milk and cereal left in it flying and spilling everywhere before its final decent to the ground where it shatters immediately.  Jungkook puts his own bowl down somewhere, possibly on the floor, as he jumps up.  

           “Don’t move,” he says, sticking his hands out.  The girl thankfully doesn’t, except she’s shaking and staring at her hands or the floor like she’s just killed a puppy.  Their shoes are still by the door, and he makes his way across the floor carefully, keeping an eye out for any shards.  He slips his on, the insole feeling disgustingly sticky and dry simultaneously without any socks on.  “Hold on,” he says, stepping over as much of the glass as he can until he’s right beside her.  She’s crying, he realizes, even though she’s quiet, and that explains a little more of the shaking, so even though he should ask before he touches her, he doesn’t, just squats down a little and lifts her up onto the counter without a word.  He leaves her there for a minute as he maneuvers back through the glass to get his broom, glancing up at her as he sweeps everything up.  There’s a puddle of milk beside her that is transferring itself to the floor, so he grabs a towel as soon as the glass is mostly all up to stop the spill.  Tossing the soggy towel aside, he puts away the broom before checking in on the girl who’s wringing her hands in her lap.

           “Hey,” he says softly once he’s by her knee, his hand hovering over it.  “You okay?”  She nods weakly but stutters out a,

           “S-sorry.”

           “For what?” he huffs, putting his hand on the counter instead.  “The bowl probably cost two dollars.  And isn’t there some saying about not crying over spilt milk?”  She laughs, a choked sound through her tears, at that.  “No injuries?  Seokjin’ll kill me if you got hurt on the first day he’s gone.”  Jungkook is exaggerating, or he hopes the girl thinks that, because he actually might be serious.  He lifts up her arm then as if to inspect her and drops it to bring her foot up before letting it go, too.  He turns her head every which way, pouting at the tears on her face, and his antics finally make her smile, much to his relief.  

           “I know cereal isn’t as good as Seokjin’s cooking, but I didn’t know it was that offensive.  I’ll make sure to go buy you pastries tomorrow.  Tacos.  Donuts. Coffee.  Whatever you want.”  The girl shakes her head, but her smile widens as he removes his hands from her face and places them back on the counter.  He stares at her for a little bit too long, watching the last of her tears clumped on her eyelashes as she blinks at him.  “What happened?” he finally asks.  She presses her lips together but doesn’t look away, which he takes as a good sign. “You.  I don’t know how to say this without sounding insensitive.  But you were talking normally.”  She looks around, her palms splayed on the counter for a second before he snaps his fingers.  “Hold on,” he says, turning to the list he keeps on his fridge for groceries.  He rummages through his junk drawer for a pen that will hopefully work before handing them to her.  The girl takes them both with a small smile and a sigh. Instead of writing, she looks at him again for a second before taking a deep breath and putting them both down beside her.  Jungkook cocks his head at her and raises his eyebrows when she closes her eyes, even if she can’t see him.  “Y/N?” he says, but she lifts a finger to her lips and he shuts up, waiting for something even if he has no idea what.

           “Sorry,” she says after a moment of simply breathing.  “I-I forgot where I was for a moment.”  Jungkook stays still and silent, not wanting to break the spell even though her words make him wince and frown.  He tries to make sure he doesn’t look angry when she opens her eyes, but the look she gives him makes him think he’s failed.  

           “That makes it sound like you’re not comfortable or don’t feel safe around me,” Jungkook says seriously.  “Like you want to be somewhere else.”

           “No,” the girl says to something he’s said.  “Yes,” she adds, to Jungkook’s confusion.  “No,” she sighs, picking up the pen and paper _.  I’m sorry.  It’s complicated.  I’m a mess._

           “It’s okay,” he says, turning to the sink to get a sponge.  “Want to see Jimin today?  Apparently Hoseok went with Seokjin, and that means Jimin will be lonely and whiny.”

           “Yeah,” the girl says, frowning at him.

           “I’ll have him come over here if that’s okay.  And we’ll leave around twelve thirty for your class.”

           “Yeah,” she says again, and he hears her hop off of the counter while he’s busy scrubbing at nothing in the sink.  He wants to scrub away everything wrong he just said to her, wants her to scrub away whatever fear or anxiety she has around him.  But he knows some things can’t be fixed that easily, and the broken bowl lying in his trash can is a good reminder of that.

 

           Jimin, you decide, has no qualms when it comes to invading people’s personal space, even people he barely knows.  He kicks off his shoes and pulls you in for a deep hug the moment Jungkook opens the door a few hours later.

           “Kookie,” he says when he pulls away, smiling at you as he leads you toward the couch, “go play a game or something.”

           “You come into my house,” Jungkook mutters, but he trails off to his room anyway.

           “Oh, wow,” Jimin breaths, eyeing the books on the couch.  “Homework already?”  You have your computer open and plop down next to where Jimin is already making himself at home, one leg curled under him and the other one brought close to his chest. You wonder if he simply makes himself at home wherever he goes, or if he’s been to Jungkook’s as much as he’s been to Seokjin’s.  

 _Missed weeks worth of it,_ you type out.   _A lot to catch up on._   

           “Ugh, I don’t miss it,” he says, glancing at the titles of the books.  “Though I do try to keep up on the current research. Sometimes it is, frankly, very boring and inaccessible, though, you know?”

           “Yeah,” you sigh, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.

           “Well, I don’t want to distract you, then,” he says, “because I know how important homework is.  But you should take breaks every so often.  Whenever I was studying for finals in grad school, Hoseok would always find the perfect rewards to incentivize me to work harder.”  

 _Like what_? you type, curious as to what might make everything less awful.  

           “Well, nothing I could rightly show you,” Jimin winks, and you open your mouth wide in understanding.  “But maybe I’ll think of something.  You work, I’ll think.”  Smiling and nodding, you do just that, almost forgetting the boy is there as you continue to read and mark up the book and take notes as you go.  After about thirty minutes, Jimin taps you on your arm and shoves his phone in front of your face.  “Okay,” he says, “first reward are these amazing pictures of Kookie.”

           “What?” you hear the other boy say from his room, his own name catching his attention.

           “Nothing!” Jimin sing-songs, but you immediately break the cover by laughing at what is essentially a meme of the boy. Clearly not trusting his friend, Jungkook appears in the doorway quickly, his arms crossed over his chest.

           “Jimin,” he says sternly, and Jimin cackles before taking his phone back from you.

           “I’m just showing her pictures of Hoseok and I.”

           “Sure,” Jungkook says, glaring before walking back to his room.

           “Fun sucker,” Jimin yells after him.

           “That’s Namjoon,” Jungkook shouts back, but Jimin only rolls his eyes.

           “They’re both lame,” Jimin decides.  “Okay, fine, back to work.”  Jimin acts as a white noise of sorts as you work, stopping you every half hour to show you a funny video or make you listen to a song or get up to stretch with him or eat a snack, and the morning passes quickly.  Jungkook really doesn’t cook like Seokjin, or, at all, so you end up eating some packaged noodles for lunch with Jimin sitting next to you, and you really do feel like a college student again.  Jungkook stays in his room the whole time except when he comes out to eat, too, and it’s him that reminds you of the time and how you need to leave soon.

           “Fun sucker,” Jimin pouts again, and you can’t really imagine how the morning has been fun for him, but you don’t argue, only throw an arm around his shoulder and give him a small squeeze.  The move seems to surprise him, but he leans against your shoulder and sighs, closing his eyes.  

           “You okay?” you say after a moment, and Jimin sighs again.

           “Miss Hobi,” he says.

           “It’s not even been a day,” Jungkook sighs from the kitchen, and Jimin sits up and crosses his arms.

           “You don’t get it, Jungkook, what it’s like to have someone and for them to suddenly just not to be there.”

           “Wow, way to rub it in my face,” Jungkook mutters, putting his shoes on.  “Y/N, we should go.  And it’s not like Hoseok’s died or anything.”  You’ve started to pack up your stuff, but when Jimin stiffens on the couch beside you, you pause and look in between the two.  Jimin has gone pale, and Jungkook hasn’t noticed yet. You clear your throat unnecessarily, and Jungkook looks over, thankfully seeing the look on Jimin’s face.  “Oh.  Shit. Jimin, you know I didn’t mean that. It’s just an expression.”

           “You want to know another expression?” Jimin huffs, standing up with his arms still crossed over his chest, but it looks like he’s trying to hug himself now. “You’re an asshole.”

           “Jimin,” Jungkook sighs, but Jimin ignores him, pulling you in for another hug.

           “Thanks for letting me cuddle with you,” he whispers into your ear.  “Jungkook is mean.”

           “I am not,” Jungkook sighs.

           “And thank you for checking on me,” Jimin says to you, smiling sweetly.

           “Thank you,” you say, emphasizing the last word by poking his chest lightly.

           “Of course!  Now, we all have work to get to.  I expect to see you tomorrow night, Kookie,” Jimin says as he pulls away from you, his finger wagging at the younger boy in the kitchen.

           “Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook says, opening the door to wave him out.  With a flourish and a wave, and a wink toward you, Jimin exits, and there is an awkward moment of silence before Jungkook clears his throat.  “You ready?” You hold up a finger so you can finish making sure you have everything for the afternoon before coming back to find Jungkook messing around on his phone.  Giving him a thumbs-up once he looks at you, you both make your way downstairs to the car.

 

           Even though he still can not follow what is happening, Jungkook was right about liking Dr. Klein after meeting him yesterday.  The man reminds him of Taehyung in some way.  He has a seemingly boundless energy, and he is restless.  He makes them all sit in a circle, and as they read bits of whatever they’re reading, Jungkook feels a little like he’s in kindergarten again during reading circle, but he checks his grin when Dr. Klein gets up and walks around the room.  He gestures wildly, and Jungkook has simply never seen someone care so much about fictional characters so much.  I mean, why does what the so-called protagonist do matter in the real world?  Who cares if a character is “well rounded”?  And why does that term not describe someone who is fat?  And what the fuck is “juxtaposition”?  Jungkook doesn’t know, and he doesn’t really care.  

           He just knows he likes Dr. Klein, and Y/N clearly likes him, too.  The whole class seems to.  There’s one girl that seems to have a stick up her butt and loves trying to contradict everything the professor says, but Dr. Klein never seems annoyed.  He always proves the girl wrong, and Jungkook likes the way he handles things, calmly like Seokjin with a clear air of authority.  There’s a level of control in the room that is familiar to Jungkook, and while he still has no idea what they are talking about, he doesn’t feel as out of place as he did in Dr. Price’s class.  Not that how he feels matters at all, because they’re there for Y/N.  But still.  It’s nice to feel welcomed, and Dr. Klein makes Jungkook feel like he has a purpose in the class.  He calls on Y/N often, for which Jungkook is grateful.  He thinks she will grow more comfortable initiating answering later, but for now she types out things for him to read.  Again, he has no idea what she means or why Dr. Klein is so impressed when he reads what she’s written, but everyone seems pleased, so he is, too. Y/N looks happier, much happier than yesterday, and Jungkook thinks it’s the perfect look for her.

           After class when Dr. Klein comes up to speak to Y/N, Jungkook gives them some space, staring daggers at the girl who has been obviously trying to flirt with him all class.  She really doesn’t seem to get the hint as she packs up slowly, so Jungkook rolls his eyes and leans back in to whisper to Y/N, hating to interrupt,

           “I’m going to wait in the hall.”  She gives him a small nod before turning back to her teacher, and Jungkook finds a nice spot on the wall in the hallway outside to lean against while he waits. The girl who was giving him the eye exits the room quickly after he settles himself in, and Jungkook is almost impressed with her determination.

           “It’s sweet you’re helping your sister out,” she says, favoring one of her hips as she stands in front of him.  She’s pretty, Jungkook will give her that, but he knows exactly what she’s trying to do, so he rolls his eyes before telling her what she really wants to know.

           “She’s not my sister.  Or my girlfriend.  I just work for her.  So, not sweet, just doing my job.”

           “So you’re not sweet?” the girl teases, and Jungkook hates flirting in broad daylight.  There’s something too exposing about it, too embarrassing, since both parties know what they’re after but continue to circle around each other like two dogs sniffing each other’s butts.

           “No, I’m really not,” he says.  “And I don’t like being distracted while I work.”

           “Oh, so I was distracting you?” the girl says, smirking, and Jungkook rolls his eyes again.  He had walked right into that one, and he’s about to respond again and probably fall into another trap when the classroom door opens and Dr. Klein and Y/N come out. “Oh, Dr. Klein, today was amazing.”

           “As always, Nancy,” the professor smiles, and Jungkook almost snorts, a little grateful the girl seems to be a flirt in general and not totally interested in him.

           “Welcome to the class,” the girl says fakingly sweetly to Y/N.  “I hope you catch up soon.  Let me know if you need any help, yeah?”

           “Yeah,” Y/N says back, and Jungkook knows there is confidence within her, even if it’s been hard to see lately.  She’s clearly dealt with such people before and isn’t going to fall for the girl’s bullshit.  She turns to Dr. Klein to thank him before, without waiting for Jungkook, heading down the hallway.  He gives the professor a nod, because he likes him, and ignores the girl, who has annoyed him thoroughly, before following after Y/N.

           “Hey, wait up,” he says, but she ducks into the first bathroom she spots, and he has to lean against a wall again.  He learned from his last girlfriend never to question how long she took in the bathroom, because apparently that was insensitive and rude even if she did always make them late to things and seemed to look the same regardless of how long she spent getting ready, but after a few minutes he can’t help but start to worry.  He sees a couple girls come out, but no Y/N, and he knows it isn’t time to panic yet, but he’s definitely on edge.  It’s not that he expects someone to have been waiting in the bathroom to grab her or anything, but he’s sure something’s wrong.  It’s not just his gut telling him so.  So when another girl approaches the bathroom, he holds out his hand, trying not to wince at the odd look he gives him.

           “Hey, sorry, look, my friend went in there and hasn’t come out?  Could you do me a favor and check on her?  Her name’s Y/N.  Tell her Ju-Kookie is waiting for her?”

           “Kookie, huh?” the girl says, giving him a look over before adding, “Sure.” The wait only makes him more anxious now, but the same girl soon returns, her hands a little wet and a frown on her face.  “She says she’s fine, but she’s definitely crying.”

           “Shit,” Jungkook says, rubbing his hands down his thigh and looking around. For what, he isn’t sure.  “Do you think I can?” he says lamely, gesturing toward the bathroom.

           “Oh, yeah,” the girl says.  “No one will care.  And if anyone gives you shit, just tell them you’re transgender.”

           “That’s.  That’s a little insensitive, isn’t it?”  Jungkook winces, but the girl shrugs.  

           “I doubt my girlfriend would think so.  It’ll keep anyone from trying to get you in trouble, at least, and spread a little more equality.  We shouldn’t have gendered bathrooms by college anyway.  But that’s just my opinion.  Your girlfriend’s crying, and if my girlfriend was crying in a bathroom, nothing would keep me out.”

           “Friend,” Jungkook corrects, but the girl just shrugs again.  He mutters his thanks as she walks off, taking a deep breath before entering the tiled bathroom.  There’s a girl washing her hands that almost screams at him.

           “Excuse me,” she starts, but he waves her off, heading toward the stall he can hear sniffling from.

           “Y/N?” he says, knocking on the door.  He hears an audible gasp and a botched attempt to steady one’s breathing.

           “Yeah?” she says shakily.  

           “Are you okay?” he asks, because he might actually be stupid.  “I mean, I know you’re not.  Can.  Can you come out?  Or let me in?”

           “Yeah,” he hears again, but the door doesn’t open, so he waits for another minute before clearing his throat.

           “Okay,” he says, trying to pump himself up, “I’m coming in.”  He’s not exactly a germaphobe, and he rationalizes that the floor of a girl’s bathroom is cleaner than a guy’s, but he still has no desire to put his hands on the tile, so he gets on his back and scoots under the door like someone failing to limbo.  He sees Y/N upside down, first, then, sitting on a closed toilet seat and giving him a weak frown that’s actually a smile once he stands up and looks her over.  “Hi,” he says, and she laughs another one of her choked laughs that makes Jungkook want to punch someone.  “What happened?  I thought class went okay?  And Dr. Klein seems really cool.  Did someone say something to you?  Do I need to beat someone up?”  Another choked laugh, but she shakes her head, showing him her phone.  

 _Do you ever like something so much you feel like you don’t deserve it?_   

           “Yeah,” Jungkook says immediately, though he doesn’t give her an example.  He feels like she’s the perfect example of that, but he’s not about to admit that to her. That’s a big truth she isn’t looking for at the moment, so Jungkook pretends like he’s referring to something else, a little glad he doesn’t run the risk of her asking what he means.  “Though I’ve never felt that way about school. You must be a real nerd.”  He’s still frowning when he hands her phone back, but he’s glad she seems to understand he is joking as she smiles.  “Look, I’m not sure what you think you don’t deserve. You deserve to be happy.  And you deserve to be in the class.  It’s where you’re supposed to be.  You’ll catch up, and the talking will come, right?  Maybe,” he says, leaning against the stall door, “next time pretend again like you did this morning.  Pretend you’re somewhere else with someone else.”  She wipes her eyes as she sends him another note that is unfair and has him blushing even if he doesn’t want to.  

 _Like giving a lap dance_?  

           “Sure,” he mutters.  “It’s all an act.”

           “Yeah,” she says, looking upset again as she takes her phone again.  She sighs and stands up, tottering just enough for him to almost reach for her, but he only sticks his hands in his pockets to cover up his movement.

           “Hey,” he says before they leave, staring at the little wastebasket next to the toilet paper dispenser by the toilet.  At the moment he can’t imagine what in the world it’s for, and the odd brown liner in it has him intrigued as the lid hangs half-open.  “Where did you think you were this morning?  When you were talking normally?”

           “Brycen’s,” she says immediately, sighing and already handing her phone over.  _My ex._

           “Oh,” he says.  “That’s. I’m sorry.”  The stall is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, and she presses her shoulder into his chest as she takes her phone back, letting him read over her shoulder as she types, and the room smells a bit too much like Clorox bleach, but this close he can smell the hint or oranges and jasmine radiating off of her, and he’s glad she’s looking down at her screen so she doesn’t see his eyes lose focus just a little.  

 _Don’t be,_ she writes.   _Just means I did feel comfortable and safe._

           “Oh,” Jungkook says again, struggling to breath.  “Good.  Good. Well.”  She looks up at him now, her eyes still shining, and Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid for letting her get this close to him again.  “You ready to go?”  She gives him a small smile like she knows what he’s thinking, though he certainly hopes she doesn’t, before nodding.  He scurries away from her, trying to pretend like everything is fine, into the corner of the stall like a scared rabbit when her hand grazes his side, but she’s only unlocking the stall and chuckling softly, surely at him.  He ignores the stare another girl at the sink gives him as he hurries out, trying to lean casually against the wall in the hallway again like he was so many minutes ago while he waits for Y/N.  Who is he trying to kid?  Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid already, and he would wait forever for Y/N if he needed to.

           Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, especially Seokjin.  He calls his boss as promised when sitting in a small coffee shop while Y/N does her homework.  He’s pretty sure she’s going to be doing homework every second she’s not eating or sleeping or crying in a bathroom for a while, and while she doesn’t exactly look upset at the fact, the work doesn’t look fun.  It is work, after all.  He sends Seokjin a picture while she isn’t paying attention as proof that she’s okay and sends a positive report about Dr. Klein.  He leaves out the fact that she cried, which may come back to bite him in the ass later, but he knows it would lead to explaining her waking up at his place, and he definitely isn’t ready to admit that.  If he is ever going to tell Seokjin that, he should have last night the second Y/N asked for him to take her to his place.  He buys her a muffin even though he has no idea if she wants one or will like it, but considering she eats it quickly, he figures it wasn’t a bad decision.  

           She has class again at five, and they arrive early enough for her to get a seat in the front row.  He really wishes she wasn’t so intent on sitting in the front row, especially when, right at five o’clock, college professors having some uncanny knack for showing up exactly when their classes started, Dr. Brennan walks in and notices the pair immediately.  He stops in front of the desk Y/N’s at and eyes them before saying,

           “Who are you?”  And Jungkook isn’t Jimin or Seokjin or even Taehyung.  He isn’t particular charming or intimidating or smart or quick on his feet.

           “I’m Jungkook,” he says.  “And this is Y/N.  She’s in your class.”

           “No she isn’t,” the man says.

           “She is.  If you check your original roaster, you’ll see her.  She’s been ill and unable to attend until now.  We tried to come see you yesterday, but you weren’t in.”  He isn’t sure what kind of man this teacher is. He has an impressive beard and looks the sharpest of Y/N’s teachers so far in terms of dress, but Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s smart.  Obviously he is intelligent, but he doesn’t know if Seokjin’s name will do what it should for the man.

           “Why are you here?”

           “Because she’s in your class.”

           “No,” the man says, sighing and placing his hands on his hips.  The whole class is watching and listening, now, and Jungkook can feel the back of his neck burning.  “Why are you here?”

           “Oh, I’m her driver.  And bodyguard.  Also, she can’t talk,” he adds lamely even though it’s what he should have started with.

           “I wasn’t informed I would have a mute student in class,” the man says, raising his eyebrow.

           “She’s not mute.  Not technically.”  Y/N has been typing on her computer almost the entire time Jungkook’s been floundering, and she finally swivels it around for Dr. Brennan to see.  He leans forward a little and squints as he reads before straightening up with a hum.

           “Very well,” he says before starting class.

           “What’d you tell him?” Jungkook whispers to Y/N the moment the man is gone. Y/N has already erased everything she had written previously, and now all she puts is  _the truth._ Jungkook wishes he could have seen what she wrote.  If she is being honest, he would like to know the whole story.  If she is lying, which he figures she is, at least to some extent, he would like to know what she said anyway.  He would like to know the truth.

 

           You count, even if you try not to after you get to sixteen, how many girls openly flirt with or check out Jungkook while you’re on campus and think you pretend so well that it doesn’t bother you that Jungkook doesn’t notice at all. You can’t exactly blame them. Since he wasn’t driving Seokjin around today, Jungkook had apparently decided to stay in casual clothes, which for him meant ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie.  He even had a beanie on, and he definitely fit in on campus more than you did.  He looked like a typical, normal college student.  All he was missing was the backpack and the bags under his eyes.  It was a little unfair at how much attention he attracts.  

           And your presence beside him clearly does nothing to stave anyone off.  Not that you want it to.  That would be unfair to Jungkook.  He’s single, even if you’re not sure why, and deserves to be happy, so why not pick up one of the girls eyeing him?  You almost ask him to take you back to Seokjin’s so he has no excuse to not bring one of them home, but you’re too selfish or scared for that, still.  You try to just concentrate on your classes and homework instead of thinking about Jungkook, but it is hard with him sitting next to you all day and checking in on you occasionally.  It’s endearing how hard he seems to be concentrating when you get him to answer something for you, his eyes narrowing on your screen and his voice loud and sure, because you know he really has no idea what is going on. Not to judge him based on his bookshelf, but he doesn’t seem very well-read, and you notice him staring blankly at nothing when Dr. Klein or Dr. Brennan talk, and you have to hide a smile at how lost he looks.  You know he’s only there because Seokjin told him to be, and you feel pathetic that you need him to help speak for you anyway, but you are ultimately, deep down, relieved and grateful for his presence and help.  You wish you could participate more in class, wish you could do more, wish you could contribute more, wish you could say more, but instead you cry in the bathroom and shut down when Dr. Brennan doubts you and lean against the window as Jungkook drives you home, hungry, exhausted, and frustrated about everything.  

          You don’t care what Jungkook orders from some drive-thru, just eat it on the couch with your homework already in front of you, and you try not to care about the look he gives you.  He seems curious and concerned, but he doesn’t ask you anything or tell you anything.  He goes to his room and is quiet, and it’s almost eleven when you finally push everything aside, your heard throbbing, when you go to take a shower.  Jungkook is sitting at his computer, playing some game, and while he may not hear you, his headphones on, he notices your presence and pauses what he’s playing, watching you gather clothes before heading to his small bathroom.  He stops again when you come out, toweling your hair in the doorway.  You simply look at him, thinking about how he’s destroying his eyesight with the bright screen in the dim room, wondering why he reminded you of Brycen in the first place.  

           He’s nothing like your ex, from what you can gather.  Not that he’s stupid, but Brycen was always smarter than you, was going to be a lawyer, thought video games were for kids, was a pacifist and vegetarian.  He never intentionally made you feel inferior despite his intellect, only motivated you and encouraged you to do your best.  He protected you and made you feel validated and safe.  Perhaps that is what Jungkook makes you feel.  Heard, even if you are quiet, and like you are something to be taken seriously and not taken for granted or advantage of.

          “You okay?” he says after you stare at him for too long.

          “Yeah,” you say, hanging his towel back up.  “Thank you.”

          “Okay,” the boy says, turning back to his game.  “Sleep well.”  You’re afraid for a moment that he is going to try to go sleep on the couch again, but he just keeps playing his game, and you make sure your phone is plugged in before climbing into the bed.  You lie on your back and watch the back of his head as he plays, the mouse and keyboard and an occasional curse under his breath the only sounds he lets out in the still room.  At some point, you drift off, only waking later when the bed shifts from Jungkook’s weight as he slips under the covers.  The mattress dips enough for you to roll slightly toward him.

          “Y/N?” he whispers, perhaps just testing if he’s woken you.  You hum in response, keeping your eyes glued shut as your limbs are barely responsive when you try to turn toward him.  “Will you hate me if I tell you to do something?”

          “Wha-?” you mumble, succeeding in flopping your arm over your chest, trying to get your shoulder to follow so you could face him.

          “Can you pretend tonight?  Pretend I’m Seokjin or Brycen, or whoever you need me to be.”  You can barely hear him, and you wonder if you’re dreaming, but when you finally manage to roll over and open your eyes slightly, blinking them rapidly as you try to focus on Jungkook’s face in front of you, you realize he is really there in front of you, waiting expectantly for your answer.

          “Why?” you manage, frowning at him and briefly distracted by his lack of a shirt.

          “Because then you’ll talk more.  I really like hearing you talk,” he says softly, and it's his admission that makes you want to tell him that you don’t want to pretend he is anyone else.  He is just who you need him to be at the moment.

          “No,” you say to finally answer both of his questions, but before he can question you or look too despondent, you reach for him.  He makes no move toward you, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or push you away, so you scoot yourself forward and let your curled fists touch his chest as you duck your head closer to his.  You knew it weeks ago when he first helped you that you didn’t need to pretend with Jungkook.  You just weren’t sure if you should actually admit that to him, because the truth was never that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah, if you couldn’t tell beforehand, Seokjin’s into something shady.
> 
> Sorry, why did I write “make a bowl of cereal.” How does one MAKE a bowl of cereal? Do you make a bowl on a pottery wheel first? Geez, B. Just say “pour a bowl.” Also, Jungkook is one of those people who pour their milk first, and I couldn’t put that in the story because I disagree so much with that, wow.
> 
> Jungkook rolling his eyes while someone flirts with him: MOOD.
> 
> Fakingly is not a word. But if Shakespeare invented words, then so can I.
> 
> Ah, are things making sense? I don’t knowwwwwwww. I know you probably have more questions now, oops. Stick with me <3
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	8. Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some more of that sarcasm during this chapter for Jungkook’s parts, like he says “he’s not jealous” which should be read “pft, jealous? What? no, never, not Jungkook, NoooooOOOOO.” Hope that makes sense.
> 
> I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving in the states! I am thankful for YOU!
> 
> Italics are things Y/N has written/typed. Hopefully I caught them all.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

           Jungkook has never particularly liked mornings.  Especially when the weather started to get cooler.  Something about the air just made him drowsy and lethargic. However, he’s beginning to see an upside to mornings as the days pass by.  The girl, without fail, always says something.  Usually in a groggy, tired voice laced with sleep that he sometimes doesn’t understand. Usually with her eyes closed as she rolls around in bed or stumbles through the kitchen.  Usually she doesn’t even seem aware of what she’s saying or who she’s talking to or where she is.  At least, after she told him about her initial confusion the first morning, that’s what he thinks.  

           Except she must know where she is by now.  It’s been over a week.  And every night he waits for her to crawl into bed after pushing her homework aside before he stops playing and joins her.  And every morning he wakes up to some combination of her closer to him than when they went to sleep; her leg thrown over his, her arm around his waist, her head tucked close to his chest, her back pressed against his.  He’s glad he always wakes up first, because some mornings she’s too close, and he has to leap out of bed for fear of doing something he’ll regret.  Not that she makes it easy for him.  

           And she always wakes up enough to realize she’s talking as she eats or by the time she’s finished eating, her eyes slowly widening and her mouth pausing mid-sentence, gaping open.  She thankfully hasn’t broken any more dishes.  Not that Jungkook cares about his $2 bowls, but he would rather her not scare or hurt herself if she can help it.  She still looks embarrassed when she looks at him, smiling apologetically, but he doesn’t care.  He wishes she would stop, that she would just keep talking, but he knows he can’t force it. Still, a few of the words she says during her lucid periods linger even after she wakes up completely.  She says “okay” easily now and “what.”  When she realized she was saying the latter, she took to annoying Jungkook with it for the entire day, saying “what?” after every little thing he said until he rolled his eyes even though he still answered if only to see her smile at him.  She seems to know her pronouns now, too, and can ask questions like “can I?” or “may I?” which only continues to make her seem way older, more mature, and much more polite than Jungkook feels, and she has taken to greeting people and saying goodbyes which helped dissolve some awkwardness in many social situations.

           Another interesting development was how much she started to talk to Jimin when he came over.  She seemed to have no problem asking him how he was.  The ease she seemed to have talking to Jimin did not make Jungkook jealous, just curious.  Jimin explained it to him one night.

           “It makes sense she doesn’t struggle asking someone else how they are.  She is not thinking about herself in that instant, and the answer she will be given does not depend on anything she has done. There probably isn’t any, or as much, fear in her asking how someone else is doing.  It’s good.  Maybe you should start falling down in front of her or something so she can ask how you are.”  Jungkook had not considered listening to Jimin’s advice on the matter.  He just listened, finding his methods odds, since he thought psychologists were supposed to be the one listening, not talking, during sessions.  He supposes Y/N is an odd case, though, and Jimin is clearly helping.  He obviously misses Hoseok, too.  Some days he shows up looking like he’s been up all night crying, and Jungkook wants to punch someone.  He knows Hoseok must know how much his boyfriend misses him, but Jungkook’s not about to tell his boss how to conduct his business.  He just hopes they return soon.

           Well, part of him hopes Seokjin comes home soon.  But after only a week, part of him does not want his boss to come back.  He misses the routine of driving him.  Misses the way the man cared enough to ask how he was and was patient enough to not demand him to be more personal and deeper than his one-word answers.  Misses his glares, even, and his presence.  Jungkook, in short, feels a little lost without Seokjin around.  He’s never been away from him for this long in the past two years.  Any time he had gone on a trip before, he always brought Jungkook with him as his driver and bodyguard.  But he knows Seokjin returning will mean Y/N has to leave, and while he has no claim over her, is only doing his job, knows she only seeks comfort in him because he is there and has vowed to protect her and has to make sure she is taken care of, he doesn’t want her to leave.

           Her hair is almost back to its original color, and he sees her sometimes looking at herself in the mirror, pulling it back and trying to get it into a ponytail, turning her head back and forth and looking for something on her cheeks or neck. He tries not to be nosy, but can’t help but notice when she texts Seokjin, a content smile on her face.  He likes the intense look she has when she is sitting on his floor, books spread out on the table in front of her, a pen or highlighter in hand as she reads and scribbles with a ferocity Jungkook can’t understand.  He catches glances of her during her classes, tells himself he has to look at her in case she needs him to share anything with everyone else, and never fails to get distracted by her focus, by the way he can tell she is curious or confused based on her eyebrows alone.  

           He loves how small she looks in her pajamas, how she almost disappears in her sweaters, and while he wants to hear her talk, to rant and ramble about whatever book she is reading even if he would have no idea what she was talking about or why it mattered, he doesn’t mind her silence.  He knows she watches him, too, especially when he’s still on his computer when she gets in bed.  At first it made him tense, made him wonder if she was annoyed by the screen or the sound or the fact that he was playing games at all, but it’s already becoming some sort of routine to get off after she’s almost asleep or already asleep, her head still turned toward him even though her eyes are closed.  He can’t help but notice the way she looks for him the moment she comes into a room or looks up at him when he comes in as if he’s some sort of anchor and stabilizer for her.  He knows it’s a metaphor, and a cheesy one, but he hopes that’s why she looks at him.  He’s sure by now she isn’t afraid of him, even if she isn’t completely comfortable around him.  He can tell she is afraid of Dr. Price, but he is just a fat bully.  He can tell she loves Dr. Klein, but so does Jungkook, so, honestly, who wouldn’t?  And he can tell she isn’t sure about Dr. Brennan yet, as some days the man smiles at her while others he only frowns when Jungkook reads something she wants to say. Jungkook isn’t sure if the man hates him specifically or is annoyed at the situation or what.  He updates Seokjin about him.

           He updates Seokjin about Y/N, too.  He updates him every day because it’s his job.  And when Seokjin says it might be another two weeks before he’s home, Jungkook says “Okay, boss” even though he feels elated.  He quells the feeling as quickly as he can, though, because he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to be so excited about the possibility of Seokjin’s work going poorly or about the chance that Hoseok could be in danger or the continual worry and loneliness Jimin was facing increasing.  He isn’t sure what Y/N feels about his boss’ trip expanding beyond a few days.  He can’t tell what Y/N feels about Seokjin at all.  And that doesn’t bother him at all.

           He knows he is supposed to go to the club today.  He didn’t go last week even though Seokjin had told him to because he didn’t want to leave Y/N.  Or tell him where he was going.  Or have to explain why he was going to her place of work.  Was there an innocent way to say to a girl currently sleeping in your bed that you’re going to a strip club just to drink with some friends?  He couldn’t even imagine having that conversation. But Jimin has been begging him, is antsy and bored and in desperate need of company.  He wishes they could just come over and drink in the comfort of his own home, but he’s never really liked having the guys over.  All of them are used to more extravagance and wealth than his tiny apartment can offer.  

           It’s Yoongi’s request that makes Jungkook decide to go.  If the notorious hermit actually wanted to see them all, he knew it must be bad.  He figures Yoongi misses Namjoon, or maybe even Seokjin.  He wonders if their boss’ absence is making all of them anxious, and getting together will offer them all some sort of stability that he usually provides even when he isn’t with them.  

           He doesn’t warn Y/N that he’s going out.  She only has one class on Thursdays, Dr. Price’s at ten, so they’re back by lunch.  She’s been doing homework for hours.  He really isn’t a good cook, but he comes out dressed for the evening and tries to make something.  It’s homemade and fresh with a mixture of protein and vegetables, so he figures it can’t be that bad.  She seems to like it, too, even though when she finally looks up her eyes narrow at him. He hasn’t worn slacks and a button-up shirt since Seokjin has been gone, and he wonders if she associates the clothes with Seokjin.  They eat his poor attempt at dinner in silence, though he is used to that, and he always eats too fast, finishing well before her, so he’s left to tug at his cuffs when he’s done.

           “I’m going out with the guys,” he finally says, watching her closely.

           “Okay,” she says, nodding.

           “You sure?  I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”  She cocks her head at that and puts her food down, typing on her computer before turning it toward him.  

 _I don’t know what to say to that, except that I would sound like a jerk if I tried to make you do anything._   

           “No,” Jungkook says, getting up and coming to sit by her against the back of the couch.  “I just mean, I don’t have to go.  You come first.”  Her eyes narrow before she puts her computer on her bent knees.

           “Why?” she asks.

          “The boys don’t need me,” Jungkook shrugs, and Y/N is smart, so she knows what he’s saying.  

 _I_ _don’t need you, either,_  she types, and Jungkook tries to pretend like the written words don’t gut him.  

           “I know.  I just meant, if you’re not comfortable with me going, I won’t.”  The girl sighs.  

_Why would I not feel comfortable with you going?  You’re allowed to do what you want.  I’m the one imposing on your time and space and life._

           “What?  No,” Jungkook says, watching her frown as she types.  “You’re not imposing, I promise.  I’m happy you’re here.  I just meant, I don’t want to leave you alone.  But it’s Nestor’s place, and I didn’t think you would want to come.”  As expected, the girl stills at the name and places her computer back on the coffee table.

          “No,” the girl says slowly before leaning forward and typing,

_Say hi to Hersey for me?_

          “Who’s Hersey?” Jungkook says.  

_Bar tender. Big, black, sweetheart._

           “Oh, I remember him.  Okay, will do.  You sure you’ll be okay?”

          “Yes,” she says, patting the book by her computer before typing another message.   _I have plenty to do._

          “Yeah, but take a break every once in a while, yeah?”

          “Yeah, yeah, okay,” she says, waving him off with a smiling tugging at the edge of her lips.  Jungkook is already halfway to the door when he realizes he had patted the top of her head as he stood up, but he doesn’t turn around to see her reaction to his odd behavior, only moves faster as he leaves.

 

          He’s waiting at the bar for the others or for Nestor to notice him.  He’s not sure which.  It must be the former, because he knows Nestor knows he’s there.  Is watching him, in fact.  Leaning over the balcony, looking down at him with one of his excessive bodyguards behind him.  Jungkook figures it is a good sign he was let in in the first place because surely the bouncer knew.  Perhaps Nestor is smarter than he lets on.  Still, it’s been a while since Jungkook’s sat at the bar, and the place is a little busier than usual for a Thursday, so he has to wait for Hersey to see him.  He doesn’t really remember that being the guy’s name, but there’s no denying it’s he who Y/N was talking about.  To be safe, Jungkook calls out to him when he’s close enough, and the big man hurries over with a smile.

          “What’ll you have?” he asks immediately before snapping his fingers and shooting them towards Jungkook.  “Oh, I remember you.”

          “Yeah,” Jungkook says, leaning halfway over the bar even though it’s probably unsanitary.  He puts his hand on the side of his mouth because he’s suddenly paranoid Nestor can read lips to whisper scream over the music.  “Y/N says hi.”

          “Oh,” Hersey says, his eyes going wide before he reaches for a glass and starts to fill it with something Jungkook did not order. “Is she doing okay?  I’m glad she got out.”

          “Yeah, Seokjin is taking good care of her,” Jungkook says, returning to properly sit on his bar stool and take the drink Hersey hands him.

          “Good.  Nestor wasn’t too pleased about that.  But I’m glad she got out,” Hersey says for a second time, nodding.  He taps the bar once and leaves without making Jungkook pay after saying, “Tell her I said hi, too, and miss her, but I’m glad she’s safe.”  Jungkook wants to ask Hersey what he means, but there’s a heavy hand being dumped on his shoulder, and he gets up immediately, twisting the hand around until it’s pulled back behind whoever is trying to grab him.

          “Ow, fuck, Kookie,” a deep voice says, and Jungkook lets go immediately, springing back and bumping into the bar in the process.

          “Shit, sorry, Taehyung,” he mutters.  The older boy rubs his wrist before glaring at Jungkook, but Yoongi pushes past him and starts waving Hersey back down.

          “Don’t apologize,” the man grunts.  “He should know better than to surprise you.”  Yoongi is right, and Jungkook is glad for him, has missed him, not that he’s going to hug him or anything over the fact.  “Go bother Jimin,” Yoongi says, not bothering to look at Taehyung.  Jungkook is pretty sure there are only a few people in the world who could get away with telling Taehyung to do something, and Yoongi is somehow one of them.  Taehyung grumbles but complies, rubbing his wrist dramatically while watching Jungkook while he does so, and Jungkook keeps waiting for him to trip as he literally walks backwards toward the corner.  He doesn’t, and Jungkook is annoyed, but he often is with Taehyung.  

           “Here, help,” Yoongi says after ordering drinks, and Jungkook carries over a few to the table Jimin has grabbed, their usual spot even if there are fewer of them tonight.  The shorter boy is already cuddled up with Taehyung, who has never seemed to mind, though he does say something about “what if Hoseok were here?”  Jungkook knows Jimin and Taehyung have been friends for years, so he knows they are only messing around.  Though if Hoseok were there, Jimin would be all over him.  They all know it.

          Jungkook suspected already that something was up when Yoongi had asked them to come out, and he is only more on edge when the man doesn’t get out his phone but spends the first few minutes sipping his drink slowly and looking around the dark room.  Jungkook’s eyes keep flickering up to the balcony, and after a while Nestor stops glaring at him and walks away.  Jimin and Taehyung are busy whispering to each other with their legs intertwined when Yoongi scoots closer to Jungkook and leans in toward him, all while still surveying the room.

          “Do you have your gun on you?” the pale man says.

          “Yes,” Jungkook says slowly, drawing the word out and looking around the room, too.  He always has his gun on him.

          “Knife?”

          “Yes.”  Another drawn out word.  “Why?”

          “Seokjin stopped paying Nestor a few days ago.”

          “What?” Jungkook hisses.  “Why?”  Yoongi shrugs, still not looking at Jungkook.

          “Said he was done with Y/N.”

          “What?” Jungkook almost snaps, staring at the man beside him.  “Is that why we were supposed to be here last week?”

          “Maybe,” Yoongi says, leaning back against the low-back couch.

          “Shit,” Jungkook sighs, leaning back as well.  “He said Nestor needed looking into.  I just didn’t want to leave Y/N alone, so I didn’t go.”

          “None of us did, so maybe it’s for the better. Just be on your guard.”

          “Why wouldn’t he tell me, though?” Jungkook says, but Yoongi only shrugs and finally pulls out his phone.  Jungkook tries not to stew, he really does, but he can feel what feels like bile and fumes rumbling through his chest.  He has half a mind to call and demand Seokjin explain himself right then, but he knows it would be disrespectful.  The anger only grows when he thinks that maybe Y/N has known all this time and also didn’t bother to tell him.  He’s not upset that Seokjin isn’t paying Nestor for her anymore, because that means she’s not his anymore.  But perhaps she still is, wants to be with Seokjin even if he isn’t paying for her, and Jungkook drowns his drink before ordering another one even though he drove himself and it would be stupid to drink too much.  He thinks his boss could have been a little clearer as to why Nestor needed looking into, too, instead of just sending Jungkook and the others into what could potentially be a lions’ den.

          “Don’t sulk,” Taehyung says at some point, well into Jungkook’s third drink, and he’s not sulking.  He’s brooding and contemplating and trying to figure out what to do while he keeps his arms folded over his chest so he doesn’t spontaneously punch the next person he sees.  He’s glad his fists are balled up and stuck under his armpits, and Nestor should be glad, too, since he’s the next ugly face Jungkook sees.  He’s standing in their area now, and, yes, Jungkook knows the area technically belongs to him since he owns the place, but this is their corner every time they’re in his shit hole for however long they want to sit there, and he’s invaded it.  It would be legal in some states to make him get out of their territory, even if it took violence.  He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, too, but Jungkook just thinks the man looks stupid doing so.  Still, Yoongi gets off of his phone and Taehyung and Jimin stop gossiping like old hags and sit up and untwine themselves from each other.

          “Where is she?” Nestor spits, and Jungkook does wonder in his haze if the man has overactive salivary glands because he practically gleeks every time he opens his mouth.

          “Who?” Yoongi says, and Jungkook is glad for him speaking up again because he just wants to use his fists.

          “The bitch,” Nestor growls, and Taehyung laughs one of his terrifying laughs Jungkook knows isn’t done in humor.

          “You’ll have to be specific.  I know a lot of bitches.”

          “Y/N,” Nestor says, and Jungkook is impressed with how slowly he gets to his feet, because he is ready to pounce.  The two men behind Nestor move slightly, and Jungkook wants to laugh at how stupid they all look.  Big, tall, ugly, stupid.  He feels a hand below his knee before he can attack, though, and Yoongi’s low, calm voice speaks again.

          “Why would we tell you that, Nestor?”

          “Because your boss,” Nestor says, his jaw clenched, and Jungkook knows he’s stupid but not completely idiotic for not daring to use Seokjin’s name, “never returned her and has stopped paying for her. Unless that was just your decision?”

          “Oh, no,” Yoongi says, sighing deeply.  “I just write the checks and wire the money.”

          “I know he’s out of town.  Did he take her with him?  Is she staying with one of you assholes?”

          “If you know Seokjin is gone, then you must know she isn’t.  Really, Nestor, I’m disappointed,” Yoongi says, standing up.  Jungkook steps aside to give him a little space.  He’s never seen the man in a fight before, but he knows it’s mostly because Yoongi is, as he says himself, too lazy to fight.  But the couple of times he has seen him in the gym when Seokjin somehow managed to drag his ass in, he was always surprised by how strong and fast the pale man was.  He acted purely on defense and knew how to use his opponent’s weight against them, somehow combining several different martial arts into one fluid and hard to predict fighting style.  Jungkook doesn’t think that’s where this conversation is headed, but he’s ready, just in case.

          “Just bring her back.”

          “If she wants to come back, she’s welcome to,” Yoongi says.  “Maybe she just got tired of working for you.”

          “She doesn’t have a choice,” Nestor spits again, and Jungkook feels more than hears Yoongi breathing next to him for a few beats.

          “I see,” the deep voice finally says before Yoongi rolls his head and his shoulders.  “Taehyung, is your wrist okay?”

          “Huh?  Yeah,” the boy on the couch says, standing up once Yoongi has summoned him.

          “Why don’t you take Jimin’s hand and go wait outside for Jungkook and I then, huh?  We have a few more things to talk to Nestor about.”  And, oh, Jungkook almost jumps up and down on the balls of his feet, because the euphemism isn’t lost on him.  Taehyung mutters something but obeys, dragging Jimin out a little harshly but quickly.

          “The last time I checked,” Yoongi says once the two have gone, “Y/N is a person and thus has a choice in everything she does. Is that not right, Nestor?”

          “It’s none of your business, fairy,” the man says, and Jungkook sees Yoongi look up from where he has been popping each of his fingers individually before he loses it.  He doesn’t even know which ugly idiot he’s aiming for when he jumps on the low table in front of him and lunges toward them, his fist already thrown backwards.

 

          In hindsight, Jungkook knows he should have just let Yoongi handle everything.  His bruised ribcage agrees.

          “He was giving me a compliment,” Yoongi says sarcastically once they’re back in the parking lot.  “Fairies are pretty.”

          “Yoongi, he was fucking insulting you,” Jungkook hisses, not appreciating Yoongi attempting to be funny at the moment.

          “He called you a fairy?” Taehyung seethes, and Yoongi puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, pushing him a little.

          “Chill.  I don’t care. Kookie, however,” he trails off, and Jungkook only shakes his head to try to clear the blood still boiling in it.

          “Is a better man than me,” Taehyung says, fuming as well.  “I would’ve ripped their fucking heads off.”

          “And that’s why I asked you to leave,” Yoongi sighs. “You okay, Jimin?”

          “Yeah,” the smaller man says, hugging one of his arms. Jungkook doesn’t think he looks okay, but he hasn’t been himself since Hoseok left.  “Just want to go home.  Miss Hoseok.”

          “Come home with me,” Taehyung says, his expression softening at his friend’s pain.

          “Good idea,” Yoongi says, patting Jungkook on the back.  “You going to be okay?”

          “Yeah, great,” Jungkook says, brushing him off. There’s an annoying streetlight buzzing overhead, and it’s all Jungkook can hear as he walks to his car, leaving his friends behind.

          He’s been drunker, more drunk, before, and has driven when he was worse off.  The fight helped sober him up, anyway, but it’s left him with another kind of dizziness and exhaustion.  He’s royally fucked up tonight, and he can’t even blame the alcohol for it, but he still uses it as an excuse to not let Seokjin know what happened.  He knows Yoongi will, anyway, or Taehyung, and he wants to prolong the inevitable punishment for as long as possible.  He, like a wasted idiot, wants to forget everything that happened since he entered the club a few hours ago.  

           But the dull buzzing in his head isn’t from drinking, so he is still too aware of everything he is doing, and he wishes his senses were duller when he gets home and sees Y/N already fast asleep in his bed.  He wishes his chest didn’t hurt when he sees her, though he supposes that may just be from where he got kicked earlier.  He wants to not feel guilty about wanting to touch her or have her touch him, but he’s hyper aware of every move she makes when he climbs into bed, still fully clothed.  He just wants to lay down for a minute, to catch his breath and clear his head before he showers and actually goes to sleep for the night.  But then Y/N rolls over and scoots closer, and he stills, not wanting to wake her up.  He starts to think he’s just going to have to sleep in his dirty clothes, but he hears her breath change and sees in the dark her eyes barely open.  Her nose crinkles as she wakes up, and Jungkook knows he’s fully sober now because he resists the strong urge he has to boop it.

          “Smell,” she says, her voice hoarse and riddled with sleep as she pulls away from him immediately.

          “Oh, sorry,” he mutters.  He knows the smell of smoke and alcohol and sweat is all still clinging to him, but he can’t bring himself to move at the moment, especially with Y/N’s hand on his chest.

          “Smell,” she says again, her voice slightly panicking as she pushes on him again.

          “Sorry, sorry,” he says, sitting up with a groan and switching on the lamp on his nightstand.  The girl is frowning so intensely at him that he stammers for a moment as his eyes adjust to the change in light.  “I just got home,” he explains.  “I need to shower.”

          “Yeah, you smell,” Y/N says again, still frowning at him.

          “Okay,” he half-laughs.  “Sorry.  I’ll go.” He doesn’t go quickly, though.  He sits and debates asking her if she knew about Seokjin, and, if so, why she hasn’t gone back to work at Nestor’s.  He debates asking her why she worked there in the first place.  He debates reaching out and touching her.  Once again, he knows he is sober when he finally sighs and starts to unbutton his shirt as he gets out of bed.  He dumps it somewhere in his closet, taking his belt off before finding clean clothes.  He’s not used to Y/N being in the room or awake when he’s usually getting ready for bed, and he can feel her eyes watching him.  She’s sitting up in his bed by the time he heads toward the bathroom, but he reaches out an arm to him, so he stops at the edge of his bed and looks down at her.

          “Yeah?”  She moves forward on her knees, her balance a little off from her drowsy state or the dips of the mattress until her fingers ghost over his ribcage.  He sucks in a breath for several reasons, because her fingers are a little cold, and because he has a giant bruise developing there, and because she’s touching him.

          “Who did this?” she says, sucking in a shallow breath.

          “Nestor,” he says without thinking, and the girl crumples a little, falling back on her heels and dropping her hand.

          “Why?” she mutters, staring at his chest.  He shifts uncomfortable on his feet and puts his hands on his hips.

          “Because he’s a fucking asshole who needed to shut up,” he says.

          “Why?” Y/N says again, her hand reaching for him again.  He’s afraid he’ll twitch too much if she touches him again, so he intercepts her hand and holds all of her fingers in the air for a moment.

          “Y/N, did you know Seokjin stopped paying Nestor for you?”  Y/N’s eyes go wide enough to answer Jungkook’s question, but she shakes her head, too, and adds a,

          “No.  Why?”

          “I don’t know,” Jungkook sighs, being completely honest.  “It’s not my business.  Nestor just…wasn’t too happy about you not coming back to work.  Did you quit?”  The girl struggles slightly in his grasp, enough for him to drop her fingers, and she looks at him oddly before laughing.  It’s not a laugh he’s heard from her before.  It’s fake, or lacking heart, or shallow like the breaths she’s trying to take, and it makes him want to reach for her again, but she recoils so much Jungkook’s afraid she’s going to back right off of the bed.

          “No,” she finally says after she stops moving and laughing, the word a giant period at the end of their conversation.  Sighing, he ruffles his own hair and heads for the bathroom.

          She’s lying down again when he comes out, his hair still dripping a bit.  His mom once told him it was a terrible habit to go to bed with wet hair, but nothing bad has ever come out of it, yet.  He’s worried she will be shut down since mentioning Nestor’s name, will keep herself distant from him to stay away from Nestor, but she watches him slip under the covers before coming closer to him.

          “Seok,” she whispers, and he waits patiently for her to continue.  “He.”  

          “Do you want me to call him?” Jungkook suggests, but the girl shakes her head and scoots closer.

          “No,” she says.  Jungkook can see her squint her eyes shut before she reaches a hand out to him, and while he hasn’t ever thought his boss would ever hurt Y/N, he suddenly has a disgusting scenario running through his head, some part of the club and Nestor still clinging to him, and he grabs Y/N’s hand a little too harshly to hold onto her.

          “Did Seokjin hurt you?” he says, and he’s surprised when he lets out the breath he was holding when she shakes her head.  He’s never seen Seokjin raise a hand to any woman, so he’s relieved to hear Y/N’s confession.  He doesn’t think he can handle another revelation about his boss at this hour.  “Nestor did though, didn’t he?”  And Jungkook is trying to keep his voice calm like he’s heard Seokjin do a million times, but he’s not skilled or trained or at natural at any of this, so he’s sure he just sounds angry more than anything else, but that’s probably because he is. All of the punches he threw earlier hasn’t seemed to satisfy him, because his fingers are twitching and clenching, Y/N’s probably being crushed beneath them.

          “Yeah,” she sighs, ducking her head.

          “He’s a fucking asshole,” Jungkook snarls.  “And he’s never going to hurt you again.  Who cares about a stupid two-weeks notice or whatever his problem is.  You don’t ever have to go back.”

          “Yeah?” Y/N says, her voice tiny.

          “Yeah, fuck him,” Jungkook says, and he can feel Y/N’s hand wiggle in his, so he reluctantly lets go.  He’s afraid that’s it, that she’s going to just go to sleep when she turns away, but she reaches for her phone and comes back with it, adjusting its too bright light in the dim room to type something out.  

 _But if Seokjin is done with me, I have to go back.  That was the agreement._ Jungkook grits his teeth, ignoring Yoongi’s words from earlier running through his head.

           “Do you want to go back, Y/N?”

          “No.”

          “Then fuck the agreement.  Seokjin can make a new one.  You can.  You don’t have to go back to work for him.”  

 _I do,_  Y/N says, staring at the ceiling instead of at Jungkook whenever she shows him her phone.  

           “Why?  Why do you have to work for him?”  He knows he sounds exasperated again, because he really can’t understand why she is so persistent.  He gets needing a job, but she’s in grad school, for God’s sake, and must be smart enough to do something else.  He’s sure Seokjin could help her find something else to do.  He watches her face instead of her phone even though she’s lying close enough on her back for him to see everything she types.  She doesn’t for a moment, anyway, her fingers hovering over her keyboard for so long that her phone goes to sleep a few times before she can write anything.  “Y/N?” Jungkook says as softly as he can, touching her elbow tentatively. He withdraws his fingers when she gasps a little, but it seems to be more in surprise than discomfort, as she starts typing immediately instead of pulling away from him.  He waits, trying not to grow anxious, as she writes.  

_Have you ever known you should do something because it is right but have been too afraid to do anything about it?_

          “Yeah,” Jungkook admits easily; unfortunately, too many such situations come to his mind.  “Why?”  

 _I want to tell you,_ she writes,  _but I’m too afraid to_.  

           “What are you afraid of?  Nestor?”

          “Yes,” Y/N says simply, looking at Jungkook and dropping her phone into her lap.

          “He can’t hurt you, Y/N.  Not anymore.  I promise. Seokjin promises.  We’ll protect you.”  He wishes he knew how to communicate with his eyes so Y/N would know how serious he is as she looks at him, but she finally breaks their shared gaze to pick up her phone again, and her thumbs move slowly across her keys.  

_But Seokjin doesn’t want me anymore._

           “I don’t think that’s the case,” Jungkook says, biting his bottom lip.  “But, even if it was, I would still protect you.”

          “Why?” Y/N whispers, looking at him again, and Jungkook really can’t take the way she’s looking at him.  It’s like the mornings where she thinks he’s someone else or thinks she’s more comfortable with him than she acts the rest of the day.  It’s too personal and intimate and piercing and deep and simply more than he can handle.

          “Because,” Jungkook says, clearing his throat as he takes her phone from her and puts it by his, not worrying about its need to be charged at the moment, “even if I’m scared, I’m going to do the right thing.” He seems to have finally said something right, because she smiles shyly at him.  He smiles back easily before closing his eyes, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.  He knows he’s sober, but he feels like he must be a little drunk when he feels what might be a hand on his bare chest and a breath too close to his face and the overwhelming scent of oranges and jasmine surrounding him.  And he knows he must have somehow gotten drunk since he’s climbed into bed, or is completely dreaming when he hears a small voice whisper,

          “Thanks, Kookie,” because when he wakes up in the morning, Y/N isn’t there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know lucid wasn’t the right word there, but I could not think of what I meant, ugh.
> 
> Hello, females, I hate the word “bitch.” Love yourself <3
> 
> Oh, shit, that cliffhanger, thouuuUUuggghh.
> 
> Byyyyyyyyye, love you.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	9. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know several people have been waiting patiently for an update on this story. I have been sick for 2 weeks, it was Christmas holidays, and now I'm getting back to work. Also, I kept putting it off, I think I realized as I wrote this chapter, because there were rough things in here that I had planned that I didn’t actually want to write. So :/ Please check the warnings. Thanks for being patient! In other news, I started 2 other stories, HA. SOMEONE STOP ME.
> 
> All that to say, it’s a short update, but at least it’s something for now!
> 
> Featuring some more of Jungkook’s perspective sarcasm (i.e. Jungkook is not embarrassed=Jungkook is EMBARRASSED OKAY?).
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse (someone is forced to almost do something sexual in this chapter), psychological trauma, touchy touchy (aka light, not descriptive smut), mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

           Your mind was explained to you once like a hallway.  Each skill, person, memory could be found in the ever-expanding hallway.  Each had its own door.  Most were labeled.  As memories faded, sometimes the sign to the door faded.  Some doors were locked.  Some you had never entered or had forgotten the last time you had been in the room. Some had doors slightly ajar that you were too afraid to look into, but you couldn’t deny that they were there. You were constantly adding rooms. And you had the key to each of them, even if you sometimes misplaced them.  The image made sense to you, even if you did question how you could teleport from room to room so quickly if the hallway really was made up of each person, skill, or memory you had ever had.  It was only an analogy, after all, and didn’t have to make complete sense.  But you knew exactly what a set of doors beside each other contained.  They had been opened once again a few weeks ago and had shut the doors of another room. You knew, if you wanted to open that door, that you would have to shut these first.

           You opened the first after Jungkook had fallen asleep as you stared at the blooming bruise on his side.

           You stared at and couldn’t help poking your own bruise developing on your shin. You had run into the coffee table again. It had been an accident.  You just couldn’t bother to put your book down as you walked through the house back to your room.  It wasn’t a big deal.  The bruise on your leg was surely the worse outcome of the whole situation.  But your dad’s drink spilled slightly and sloshed onto a magazine on the table that he wasn’t even reading, that either no one had ever read or everyone had already finished so it could just sit there as decoration.  You would think it was acid on his skin by the way he hissed at you.  “Y/N, watch where you’re going!  You’re going to make a mess if you’re not careful.”  You were going to, already had, hurt yourself if you weren’t careful, but that’s not what he said.

           You opened the second door as you got out of bed to get dressed.

           You had no opposition to family dinner, unlike Emerson.  But he was still just a kid, a little brat, and it was his job to be annoying and kick you under the table and try to stuff his vegetables under his pants or wherever he put them.  You rarely kept track of your parents’ conversations if they weren’t directed toward you, and they usually weren’t.  But you had actually bothered to ask to have a friend over, a new girl from down the street you had met at the park while riding your bike.  Her hair was red and wild and she was loud and opinionated and outgoing and made a cross over her heart every time she promised something and you had already carved your names into your windowsill together even though she had never read  _Redwall_ and liked dolls more than you did and didn’t know what it was like to have a younger brother.  Lucky. “Who, Hannah?  The new girl down the street?  She talks so much.”  More than you do, you knew, but it wasn’t what you translated in your head.  Your dad meant that girls shouldn’t talk that much, shouldn’t share their opinions, shouldn’t have such crazy imaginations, and you hoped that meant he was pleased with you, since you were quieter than the new neighbor girl.

           You opened the third door as you opened the door to Jungkook’s apartment.

           Everyone was determined to make you sociable, whatever that meant.  You were polite and friendly, and you weren’t supposed to be loud and obnoxious, but apparently you needed to learn to pretend to be someone else.  The stage was where you would learn to be yourself by being someone else, apparently. So you were given the smallest part with one line.  You knew your cue.  You hit your mark.  You spoke loudly.  And you said the line wrong.  The person after you blinked on stage and sighed before carrying on, even if his line didn’t make sense now in the context.  He whispered to his friend even as you all exited stage left, “Couldn’t even get one stupid line wrong.”  Couldn’t even do the simplest thing, the easiest thing even an idiot could have done.

           You opened the fourth door as you walked in the dark toward another real door.

           It didn’t matter what you wore or what you did or what you said or what you looked at or what you did at all.  There was always someone who was going to bother you.  To be malicious enough to try to prove you wrong even if you had done nothing to provoke them.  You minded your own business in high school.  You knew what you wanted to do after graduation, which couldn’t be said for most of your peers, but you didn’t think that having a plan and ambition should give them an excuse to belittle you.  You answered questions whenever you knew them, and you knew them often.  You watched Hannah make other friends.  You took solace in your books.  You didn’t think it should, it would, matter to anyone else.  But you heard it countless of times, unable to keep track of who said it when or where over the years.  “What a loser.  All she does is read.  Has no friends.  Not even worth the time.”  So insignificant you weren’t even worth the time to pester.

           You opened the fifth door as you stood on the sidewalk, waiting for day break.

           You never dreamed of growing up and being a princess.  You had no desire for a knight in shining armor.  You didn’t think you needed rescuing from anything. By college, your parents had written your oddity off as being moody or immature.  “Talk to us, Y/N.  We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us,” as if words were going to make everything clear, as if they were the only way for anyone to see that something was wrong. But you stood at the front of your class and listened to your professor interrogate you.  You answered confidently at first.  You had worked hard.  You knew your topic.  But he continued, and you faltered.  And you broke eye contact with him to flicker around the room.  Most people were not paying attention, too intent on concentrating on finishing their presentations last minute or texting their boyfriend about how boring class was or watching cat videos on YouTube.  But the few that were paying attention made you unable to drop your head.  Some stared, their glares judging, excited, like they knew after you they were going to do well.  Some looked sympathetic, like they had been in your place before and knew why you were sweating so much and were suffering second hand embarrassment for you, hoping it would be over soon for everyone’s sake.  And then he was looking at you with nothing but concern.  When it came time for the audience to ask questions, he turned to the professor to challenge something he had said, and you had never wanted to be saved before, to be helped, because you have given up hope long ago that anyone cared, that you were worth the effort, that you needed help to begin with.  But he gave you his number and chose his words carefully.  “I really liked what you had to say today.  I’d like to talk to you again someday.”  And you had a hard time not looking at him, not waiting for him to help you, not talking to him, for the next two years.

           You opened the sixth door when you saw the door to Nestor’s open and someone shook out a rug against the equally dirty wall under the low dim of a street light.

           Talking or not, being with Brycen always left you slightly excited, slightly worried that everything was too good to be true and would be over too soon.  His energy and pure curiosity were infectious and always got the best of you, even on days when you wanted to stay quiet or felt too insecure to start a conversation.  He pulled you in and kept you close, and everything was so easy with him that you had to mess it up at some point, had to finally show him how disappointing you actually were, even if you were trying to please him at the same time.  There was something more intimate about it than sex, something about breaking eye contact with him and making your way down his chest, about trusting him to let you move at your own pace, to collect yourself and move slowly, something about watching him twitch so easily under the slightest touches, about the way you both lost your breath at the same time, something warm that flowed through your whole being as you put your whole warm mouth around him—there was something more intimate and more terrifying about a simple blow job because it was anything but; you needed to breathe and move your tongue and not scrap with your teeth and make him feel good but make him feel loved more than anything else, and it was suddenly too much all at once, just another door filled with being overwhelmed and shutting down like you had done so many times before.

           You opened the seventh door even as you opened the door to the club, the club technically closed but not locked yet and therefore still easily opened as if it was just waiting for your return.

           The door was easy to open because you had come and gone many times before. You had a key.  But even now it sat on the table, locking away the past two years for good, just another room.  A room you would want to and did visit often even though you were the one who had left it. “Please don’t do this.  We can make it work.  Don’t push me away like this.”  Brycen had done nothing but be the one to pull you in, to pull you closer, to hold you until you were ready to talk about it again.  It had been too easy with him, too good, and you knew he loved you, but you loved him enough to know long distance was a form of silence neither of you could handle.  He had shown you that love is acceptance.  But you needed to get better for yourself, by yourself.  You would go to grad school, leave the town you grew up in, break up with your boyfriend all because the very acts made you unable to talk about it.  Brycen accepted you as you were and never tried to make you better or better yourself, and that was too easy.  Too quiet.

           “Y/N, you bitch, where the fuck have you been?” Nestor smells and sounds as bad as you remember.  The club is brighter than you remember, too, but perhaps that is because you are still struggling to wake up despite how alert you are, or because it is after hours and the lights always had to come on to expose what filth had been accumulated over the night.  It was pushing four in the morning, and part of you wasn’t expecting anyone to be up, didn’t expect that place to be open at all.  But Hersey is standing at the bar, his muscles tense, and there are more goons than normal on the floor.  The place is a wreck, and a smile of triumph sneaks over your face before you can stop it, thinking about how Jungkook must have smashed the table someone is trying to currently sweep up with a ridiculously small broom.  

           You’re too close to Nestor, though, or have forgotten about how dangerous he is enough to forget that your smile may be taken as taunting to him, and he has your arm twisted half away and half behind your body before you can stop him or yourself, and the touch alone coupled with the pain makes you wince.  There’s a huge red welt that will be a nasty bruise already developing on his face you can see clearer when he leans in toward you, and even though you would rather his disgusting face never even be in the same room as you again, you feel an odd sort of pride, wondering if it was Jungkook who got the hit on him.  You must be smiling unconsciously, because Nestor curses again, hissing at you.

           “Come hold her,” he says to someone, and Hersey moves, but not really toward you. His movement makes your eyes waver enough from the stare Nestor is giving you to see a few girls in a doorway to a room, another room you used to sleep in.  Two or three men you never bothered to get to know are abandoning their pitiful attempts at cleaning to come over toward their boss.  One is visibly limping, and you think of Jungkook again even as Nestor lets go of you.  You shake your limbs as you watch the men approach, but your eyes keep flickering back to Nestor.  He steps back from you, crossing his arms over his chest, and leers at you.

           “I quit,” you say, the words leaving your mouth like a gush of wind bursting through an open door.  It actually makes Nestor blinks, his dumb face clearly confused enough to falter. But then he laughs, the move obviously making his jaw hurt as he clenches it back to only glare at you.

           “So it looks like Kookie has been teaching you more than how to get him off.”

           “I quit,” you say again, clenching your fists and standing your ground.

           “You know you can’t quit.  Or did learning a few words make you forget that?” Nestor says, still smirking.

           “I quit!” But when one of the goons tries to grab you, and you try to struggle, but there are more hands that are stronger than you, and one grabs your shoulders, another your arms, and a foot hits the back of your knee.  You’re staggering before you can catch your balance or shake them off of you, and Nestor takes a step closer to you again, looking down as someone pulls on the back of your hair to force your head to look up at him.

           “I’ve told you before,” he says slowly, a finger trailing slow enough down your cheek that it might as well be the tip of a cold blade, “that I will fucking kill you if you try to escape or tell anyone.  What did you tell Seokjin?”  His finger lingers on your chin, his nail digging into your skin when you don’t answer. Your silence is the answer, but it only serves to irritate him, as his finger leaves quickly enough to nick your skin. It returns just as quickly, though, along with the rest of his fingers as his whole palm hits you, the slap stinging and making your head jolt before whoever is holding you can grab your hair harder and jerk it back into position.  “What did you tell Kookie?” Nestor asks, but you still don’t answer, your knees already aching from the hard, cold floor.  Shards of a broken table and shattered glasses and splatters of blood are still evident nearby, and you wonder what part of you is about to be added to the mess.

           “I quit,” you answer instead, but it clearly isn’t what Nestor wants to hear as his hand collides with your face again.  The force makes you cough for breath, especially when your head is pulled back, the position making your airway constricted.

           “You stupid,” Nestor says, tugging on the other side of your hair, each strand making your head feel like it is being slowly pulled apart, “bitch.”  His other hand grabs your jaw and rips it open. “If you can’t anything right, then we’ll have to find another use for your mouth.”  His hand in your hair leaves, but it’s only to reach for his belt, and the sound of metal, the slightly clanking of one part against another is all it takes for you to remember.

           You open the eight door, one so recently created that has been thrown open for weeks, even as another door swings open so suddenly behind you that it clangs loudly into the side of the wall, causing everyone to jump slightly and look up toward the entrance.  You don’t try to even twist to see, but the hand in your hair does loosen slightly, presumably as the guy turns around, and it lets go completely when you hear a fierce voice hiss out,

           “Get away from her right now.”  There is a shuffling of boots and pants and bodies behind you, and that same metal sound, but the thumb and finger on your jaw let go, though they still feel like they’re pressing deep into your skin, and it’s only then that you realize you have closed your eyes.  “I thought we settled this earlier, Nestor.”

           “We settled nothing,” Nestor spits, but he is not directly in front of you, and no one is touching you anymore, and you slip from your knees to your bottom, catching yourself on your palms.

           “Then let me make this perfectly clear,” the person says, and it’s Kookie, you realize, or you know, or you knew already, because who else would it be? There’s a small, almost imperceptible clicking sound that sounds nothing like a belt, and a short intake of breath in front of you.  You hang your head, the blood rushing too quickly through every part of you, each noise louder than it should be.  “You will not touch Y/N again.  Seokjin is not done with her.”

           “His payment says otherwise.”

           “Surely you know better than that, Nestor.”

           “He broke our agreement.”

           “He’ll make a new one.  You just have to be patient.”

           “Is that a suggestion, or a command?” Nestor says, and a second passes as you practically pant for breath, your body coming down from adrenaline too quickly.

           “From me, it’s a suggestion.  As Seokjin’s man, it’s a command.”

           “Who are you right now?”

           “Both.  Always both,” Kookie says after a moment, and you have to open your eyes now.  The room is still too bright, the sudden light making your eyes burn even as your lungs and head and face do.  “Y/N, let’s go now, okay?”

           “She came here on her own, without you, you know,” Nestor says, and you nod, though you were trying to agree to Kookie’s idea more than what Nestor was saying. “She was coming back to work.  You can’t keep her from working forever, Kookie, and your boss can’t either.”

           “Really?” Kookie says, but you’ve turned around to face him, now, and he’s looking at you, not Nestor, when he asks.  The door to the club is still thrown open, and he’s standing there in half darkness, half light, his hands stuck in the pockets of his jacket, smiling warily at you when your gaze meets his.  “Is that true, Y/N?” Kookie says again, still looking down at you.  You’re practically crawling to him, but he hasn’t made any move toward you, though his jaw keeps clenching when he isn’t talking as he watches you.  

           “She wants to work,” Nestor says again, his words making you move faster toward Kookie.  You are almost to him, almost to the door.

 

           Jungkook wants to punch a wall.  Wants to rip someone’s head off.  Wants to scream and curse and make someone bleed.  Instead his fists are clenching in his pockets as he stares at the girl on the floor.  There’s a mark on her face again.  Already. And he wants to shoot someone at this point.  Wants to blast their brains out.  Wants to make them beg for mercy as he rips their fingernails off.  He’s never actually tortured anyone or had a desire to inflict cruel, unusual pain on anyone before, but right now he knows he is madder at himself, and partially mad at Seokjin, and completely mad at Nestor for all of this happening anyway.  He in no way believes Nestor, who is the epitome of shady and lies more than he shits, but he is also not going to make the girl do anything she doesn’t want to.  He takes a deep breath, watching as she pads over to him slowly, before saying,

           “If that’s so, then I’m not going to stop her.”  He tries to shrug nonchalantly as he does so, and when the girl stops momentarily, he moves toward her but averts his steps toward the closest couch, slinking into it reluctantly.  He hopes his growing repulsion to this entire room isn’t obvious, though, and at minimum, at desperation, hopes that the girl doesn’t think his disgust has anything to do with her.  She has turned toward him as if trying to process what he is doing or what she should do, and her lips are pressed together.  He’s thankful that Nestor keeps his mouth shut and that the whole place goes still as he waits with the rest of them.  

           Jungkook’s heart does not stop when she starts to move, though he does pull his hands out of his pockets slowly, whether to steady himself or her as she struggles to stand up, he’s not too sure.  He’s not sure if it’s hesitation or fear behind her languid movements, because she isn’t frowning, but she isn’t smiling, and his heart does drop when she takes one of his hands in hers.  She moves his arm to the side and does the same with the other, and when she lets them go, he lets them drop, leaving his lap completely open to her. He waits, because he will stand by what he said and let her do what she wants.  Instead of straddling his lap, though, she crawls into it, and the hands that wrap around her neck do not play with his hair or tease his sensitive skin in any form of invitation for him to do anything; they clasp behind him in desperation.  The way she presses her head and chin sharply into his neck and collarbone and the position of her legs curled up, her shoe heels digging into his thighs, scream anything but pleasure or enjoyment for either of them, and Jungkook wraps his arms around her immediately when she says,

           “No.”  Slipping a hand under her knees, he stands up, a little more awkwardly than he would have like to as the seat is trying to eat him like quick sand.  He’s afraid of what he might say, so he only glares at Nestor once before walking out, the girl surprisingly almost weightless in his arms.

 

           He mutters to her over and over on the way home.  Something about protecting her and how it will never happen again and how Seokjin will know and Seokjin will take care of it and she’s safe now and she never has to go back and she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to ever again and he wishes he believed everything he was saying whole-heartedly but he knows he can’t keep certain promises, so he’s stupidstupidstupid for making them, but he makes them for her and to her even as he puts her back into bed.  He refuses to sleep, promises to himself to stay awake until the sun rises to make sure she doesn’t leave again, to makes sure this time she will stay safe, and he at least manages that.  

           She makes it easy on him, though, because she refuses to let go of him even as she falls asleep, and he barely dares to breathe so close to her. He’s afraid of disturbing or upsetting her more, so he lies beside her as still and as quiet as he can be.  She makes it easy, though, because there is a lot to take in, and he fills every second with taking her in as much as he can while he can.  He’s almost annoyed when the sun rises, but when the girl starts to move, it’s only to roll closer to him, and he almost gets up, almost asks her who she thinks she’s with, but she mumbles something with a hard “k” sound, and he relaxes, melts a little, in fact, at the sound.  Still, her moving intensifies until she gets up completely, and it’s her face that makes Jungkook spring up and rush to his kitchen, cursing himself forgetting about how Nestor had fucking dared to hit her again.  She hisses when he presses an icepack to her cheek but then smiles through a grimace, and it’s the most beautiful thing Jungkook has ever seen.  He only risks asking a few questions, and she says “yes” to all of them,

           “Are you alright?  Are you hungry?  Do you want a shower?” so he lets her go about her day while he tries to distract himself and make himself scarce.  By noon everything seems back to normal, whatever that looked like for the pair of them, but when he has to step out to call Seokjin, promising to come back as soon as possible, he can see the panic in the girl’s eyes, and that makes him worry enough to hurry through the phone call and make plans to see Jimin that evening. The girl seems to relax a little when he comes back to the apartment, even smiles up at him from her homework, and that satisfies Jungkook enough for the day.

 

           He’s not jealous that the girl seems to smile wider when he drives her to the arcade later and she sees Jimin and Taehyung are there, because she had taken his hand when he had opened the door for her and hadn’t let go of it since.  It’s a testament that Jimin must have exhausted Taehyung that the guy doesn’t tease Jungkook, because he’s pretty sure Seokjin always passes that job on reverently to his brother whenever he is out of town. He worries, unnecessarily, that Taehyung will be insensitive, but Jimin seems to pull him from one game from another even though he is awful at all of them.  Jimin makes himself laugh, which makes the rest of them laugh, and Jungkook worried that the girl would be still tired from her late night or anxious about people touching her after how much she was roughhoused, but by the end of the night Jimin is falling all over her from laughing so hard, and she seems to be fine.

           She laughs as loud as him, and Jungkook always has to stare at her when she does, even though she catches him red-handed a few times.  He only smiles sheepishly and goes back to beating Taehyung’s butt at whatever game they are playing.  He’ll never admit how much he loves beating the guy, since he’d never lay an actual finger on him, wouldn’t dare to for several reasons, winning at games feels like an excellent accomplishment.  Taehyung seems to take in stride, though, and doesn’t seem too upset, just glances at Jimin every once in a while to check in on his friend.  Jungkook does the same for the girl.  His pride and Y/N’s honor, apparently, is only threatened once when Taehyung makes a bet Jungkook isn’t keen to make but Jimin insists he has to in order to be the perfect gentleman.  He’s pretty sure it’s illogical, but Y/N goes along with it and laughs at his eye rolls as he proceeds to race Taehyung again.  He wins, though he’s pretty sure Taehyung lost on purpose, which he’s never done.  

           He doesn’t have time to wonder or question it, because Jimin starts to playfully hit Taehyung and whine about how Hoseok would have won, and Jungkook knows the night needs to be called before Jimin’s playing turns into actual despair.  In order to placate him, Taehyung tells Jimin to go call his boyfriend before they drive home, and Jungkook says goodbye when Y/N slips her hand in his again and waves to Jimin, and he only lets go when he has to, when she’s safely in the car.  There’s no need for him to take her hand once they’re home, but he offers it anyway, and he does not smile when she takes it with a real smile of her own, so there is no reason he turns his back to her, but there’s also no need for her to walk so closely to him on the way up to his apartment, but she steps on his heels and giggles more than once, though he’s not sure if it’s because she feels bad or because she’s doing it on purpose and is feeling mischievous.  He smiles regardless, though, and only lets go of her hand again when he has to, when she starts to get ready for bed.  

           It’s late already, but he’s so used to playing games before bed he does it almost without thinking.  His computer is already booted up and he’s already lost a little, his eyes slightly burning from being open for so long and his ears guarded by outside noise by his headphones, when he feels his chair tilt a little from some other source.  He pauses his game immediately and looks up to see Y/N smiling at him, and his headphones come off next as his eyebrows raise inquisitively.

           “What is it?” she says, pointing at his screen.  He follows her finger dumbly as if he doesn’t know what she’s asking.

           “Uh, Overwatch,” he answers.

           “May I?” she says, and he hesitates for too long, not sure what exactly she’s asking for, but he moves back from the desk to give her room, anyway, relinquishing the mouse and starting to stand up.  She puts a hand on his shoulder to push him back down, though, and he sinks back in his chair with his brow furrowed.  It’s only when she pushes one of his thighs aside, which does not make him jump, does he halfway understand what she wants, and he spreads his legs to give her more room.  She fits in between them fine, but she’s still basically sitting in his lap, which does not make him flush at all, and she pulls them back toward the desk before settling down, her hands somewhere in her own lap or under the desk out of sight. He’s not even aware of where his hands have gone, just lets her sit there for a second.  She seems to be taking in the screen, or something, but she doesn’t touch the keyboard of mouse, just reaches for his knee or right above it, and he jumps a little at the slight squeeze she gives him.

           “Okay, okay,” he mutters for some reason, but he moves for the mouse, understanding now she doesn’t want to play herself.  He tries to keep some distance between them to make sure she’s comfortable, but in order to reach the keyboard, too, he has to press into her back. She doesn’t flinch or seem to mind, though.  It doesn’t bother Jungkook, either.  The smell of oranges and jasmine is overwhelming, and she is making him extremely warm, but he can’t complain.  Still, at first her entire presence keys him up to the point where he’s jittery enough to make more mistakes than he normally would.  She surely can’t know that, though, and she surely isn’t aware of how every little movement almost sets him off.  He wills himself to concentrate on the game, though, and not upset her, and her presence shifts to something he’s hyper aware to just something that is there. He’s still aware of her.  She hits the desk sometimes or his leg when he makes a good shot, and she makes little noises when he’s doing poorly.  And she is incredibly close to him.  

           She seems to run out of energy as he does, though, and he starts to do poorly again because he grows increasingly tired.  She doesn’t seem to notice as much, or is falling asleep herself, so before he misses her slapping his leg, he saves his game and quits so they can go to bed.  He can see their reflection in the screen when he goes black momentarily, and the girl has such a soft, content smile on her face that he’s afraid to move.  He waits for her again, then, and she yawns and stretches before pushing them away.  She takes his hand, unnecessarily, again, and pulls him to the bed.  He’s used to climbing in to go to sleep after her, so he fumbles for a second, but she pats the bed beside her as she looks up at him, that same smile on her face, so he hurries to lie down and pull the cover over both of them.  He looks at her for a second like he had only a few hours ago after they came back from the club before realizing she’s staring back and is still awake.  He looks away at the silhouette on the lamp on the table near his bed for a second before looking back at her soft smile, illuminating under the dark bruise developing on her face.

           “Hey,” he mutters, “can you not.  I mean. Don’t disappear on me again, okay?  Please?  That.  Uh, I thought Seokjin was going to have to kill me since you left.”  The girl’s smile doesn’t disappear, but her eyebrow rises. “I was worried about you, too.  I just.  Why did you go back there?  You don’t want to work there I thought.  Right?”

           “Right,” she says.

           “So. So why did you go back?”

           “You said,” she says, and Jungkook flinches for a second, because he has no memory of saying such a thing and hopes he would never.

           “What?”

           “You said ‘do the right thing.’  I quit,” she says, and Jungkook blinks before sighing in relief.

           “Yeah, yeah.  I did. Well, you did.  That was your idea.  I’m glad,” he says, yawning.  The girl hums, and her eyes are watching him closely when his open again from his yawn. Her smile is gone, which makes him frown, and she lifts her head a little to point to his door.

           “Kookie,” she says, looking at him.

           “Yeah?” he says, not sure what he’s expecting.

           “Could you.  The door?” He’s not exactly sure what she means, but the thing is wide open.  He hasn’t left any lights on in the rest of his apartment, so it’s not letting anything in, but he jumps out of bed immediately.

           “Sure,” he says with a slight hint of confusion in his voice.  Her smile is back by the time he’s done with his mission and his back in bed, and he can’t help but smile back.  He’s never really cared if his door is opened or closed when he sleeps.  It’s just a door.  But if Y/N wants it closed, then he can close it for her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on love--I think love is largely about acceptance. Or wholly about it. But love is also not letting someone get away with things that are bad. If you are in an abusive relationship, love toward that other person is actually leaving them because they need to change and stop harming you. Acceptance is not tolerance. Tolerance is accepting something you know is wrong. I don’t think we should be tolerant. I hope that makes sense. 
> 
> Also, I hope Y/N makes even more sense now. We’re learning more and more about her! Some people who experience temporary speech lose experience it first as a child or experience it more than once. In short, Y/N has experienced it before at various stages of her life. All of the triggers are the same, though; she is afraid of displeasing others and not fitting the “ideal woman” type, to put it simply, though no psychological experience is that simple.
> 
> The dinner table story is based on an experience I had with my family. Hannah was a girl who moved in, but my parents didn’t say anything about her talking too much. The conversation I remember was about another friend, and my dad and brothers called her “heavy” (not fat, but still), and that comment stuck with me so much I developed an eating disorder later in life. In short, a word, a conversation, can have a lasting impact on someone. So be careful.
> 
> I hope you can wait patiently for the next update! I am still sick and has started, so I am trying to keep track of everything, and part of that has meant not writing as much. Take care of yourselves, and I will continue to try my best, too! 
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	10. Permission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seokjin is back! I know people were waiting for him :)
> 
> Also ft. Y/N going for what she wants. You get it, girl.
> 
> But always consent. Always, my dears <3 <3
> 
> Italics are things Y/N has written/typed.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

            “What you fear is what you worship.”  You couldn’t get the thought of your head.  Someone had shared it in class the other day which had led to a debate over the meaning behind not only fear, but also worship.  You had originally disagreed with the idea—why would you praise something you’re afraid of?  However, as the discussion went on, you realized fear could be respect or reverence, and thus the idea made perfect sense.  Then, when someone else had said that worship could just mean devoting our time and energy and even money sometimes to something, you understood the phrase even deeper.  You had thought that you avoided things and people that you were afraid of, but that very avoidance took your focus and energy away from other things. 

           By giving the fear substance and character and power over you, you were, in a way, worshiping it.  That idea, coupled with Kookie’s encouragement, made you want to do the right thing, made you want to stop being afraid, made you want to tell him and Seokjin, made you want to be free of Nestor and all that he entailed for good.  But Saturday you had woken up for the second time with your face throbbing and a soft face smiling at you.  And despite how exhausted you felt, even though you didn’t feel like you had accomplished anything, you had pushed yourself to distractions instead of discussions.  You had done your homework regardless of your growing headache.  And you really had enjoyed spending time with Jimin and his friend Taehyung at the arcade.  But it was all just a distraction.

            Kookie was, too, even if he didn’t mean to be.  The boy had saved you on more than one occasion, now, and ignoring him was almost impossible.  He seemed more reluctant to leave you alone now, too.  It didn’t annoy or bother you, but your head was filled with so much of him that you couldn’t find the words to tell him what you needed to.  It only made sense, as his apartment was so small you ran into each other literally every day at least once.  He drove you to school and walked close to you and sat next to you and was constantly looking at you even when he thought he was being subtle.  He always let you know where he was going if he had to leave the room or the apartment, and you found yourself waiting anxiously for his return every time.  You found it easy to trust that he was going to return, so you were never worried about that, but you were so used to his presence already that you missed him the moment he was gone.

            You feared, you knew, even if you weren’t ready to speak it, losing him or upsetting him to the point where he would not return one day when he went to make a phone call.

            He was different from Brycen, who was almost always talking, always asking questions, always waiting patiently for you to answer.  Kookie was patient, too, but he hardly talked.  He sang, though, you learned, even when he thought you weren’t listening or couldn’t hear him.  Always in the shower, if no where else.  Even if you were in the living room, you could hear his voice floating through the air, a pleasant, low, soothing hum that made wonderful background noise when you were studying.  In the car he seemed to not realize he was doing it unless you laughed or looked at him, causing him to blush and look away.  You weren’t sure why he was so embarrassed about being caught; he had a beautiful voice.  You appreciated that the two of you could move seamlessly around each other now, even with the occasional accidental run-in, a few looks or movements all you needed to understand each other.  You wanted, though, to speak to him.  The lack of talking or asking you questions on his part didn’t bother you so much, but you wanted to know about him, about his thoughts, about what he wanted to do.  He always seemed more concerned about what you wanted or what was going on with you, though, and while he was being helpful and sweet, a part of you just wanted to sit him down and get him to talk to you about himself.  But you knew about why people were quiet.  You knew talking to others required trust and connection.  Many people had shown you patience and kindness and sympathy in the past, Kookie included, so you would wait patiently for him, too.

            So you didn’t tell him about Nestor.  You watched him play video games and you held him a little closer to you when you went to sleep, and you ate breakfast the next morning while he was still sleeping, and you did your homework.  For now, it was a decent enough distraction from Kookie, after all.

 

            Growing up, Jungkook wasn’t afraid of much.  His older brother taught him early on that he would have to fight for a lot of things in the world, though that didn’t always mean throwing punches.  It usually meant hard work and determination and diligence in the small things.  He slacked sometimes and didn’t always see the point all the time.  College taught him that fighting for himself would mean fighting against others, and that having someone else on your side always made the fight easier.  He learned he cared about what people thought, that his reputation mattered to him, that even if he worked hard and there was no evidence, sometimes someone’s one word against you could spell disaster.  He learned that name recognition matters, as do promises and threats that can be backed up.  He learned that others often fear losing, whether that means at a simple game or their way of life or their reputation or their life.  Seokjin had taught him all of this, too, and more so.  Seokjin had shown Jungkook what he feared above all else: feeling helpless and weak and powerless. 

           He had felt so when Seokjin found him, had been at his lowest, was down and out.  The bell had already rung, in fact, but Seokjin found a way to get him back in the ring and fight again.  Jungkook figures that everyone, at a certain level, hates feeling powerless, too, though.  It’s against our human nature to just lie down and take a beating, so he figures Y/N doesn’t like getting hit by Nestor or being unable to express herself fully with her words.  He assumes she doesn’t like feeling like she has to rely on him to ask questions in class for her or make sure she makes back home, to his home, safely.  He thinks she would rather be on her own, be independent, and be able to take care of herself.  So he tries not to hover.  He tries to leave her alone and let her do her own thing.  She doesn’t make it easy on him, though, or he doesn’t make it easy on himself, because she is constantly around.  For all of her quietness, she is never silent.  He can always hear her breathing, if nothing else, or shifting around in bed a little to get more comfortable, or turning pages in her books, or singing to herself when she thinks he’s not listening. 

            She does the latter perhaps more than she realizes lately.  Usually when she is working on homework in the living room and he is in his own room, each in their own world but still sharing the same space.  Her headphones are always on, and their ability to cancel out noise coupled with her concentration on reading and taking notes always makes her get lost a little.  He stands, sometimes, in the hallway and watches her, listens to the way she goes from mumbling along to lyrics or talking to herself to singing something out loudly.  Her voice is like her laugh, beautiful and not heard enough.  He never lets himself linger, afraid that if she sees him she will shy away or stop completely, but sometimes he wonders if she would talk more if she always had music playing in her ears, its sounds blocking out any others that might distract her or make her afraid to add her own to the ever growing noise.  She doesn’t, of course, so Jungkook keeps listening and watching when he can, does his best to protect her, and uses his voice as little as possible, eagerly waiting for her to use her own.

            He’s afraid, too, that after the run in with Nestor the other night that she will shut down and retreat into herself again, but if nothing else, she seems more comfortable and talkative around him.  She is certainly more comfortable being close to him physically.  Her closeness continues into the next week, which Jungkook can’t complain about, even though he tries to tell himself over and over again not to get used to it, since Seokjin is getting back at the end of the week, and the girl has never been his to touch, anyway.  He figures that if she initiates everything, then he has a way to defend his actions as purely reactions.  Plus, like she once said, he is supposed to take care of her, and if holding her hand or letting her walk so closely behind him that her shoulder constantly bumps into his back makes her feel cared for, then he won’t deny her of such harmless actions.  She’s taken to joining him in the evenings to play games, too.  Before she would watch him from his bed, he knew, as she fell asleep, but now she puts her homework away earlier and gets ready for bed and then nudges him gently until he makes room for her in his chair.  She’s growing bolder, too, or more comfortable, sometimes not even waiting for him and just sitting on his legs immediately.  It makes him grunt a little, and that makes her laugh, so he doesn’t complain. 

            It’s Wednesday night when she does this for the first time.  She doesn’t give her usual raised eyebrow waiting for an invitation or wait for him to move his legs at all.  She’s fresh out of the shower, which means her hair is still dripping a little, and her clean smell is a little overwhelming, when she nudges on his shoulder, turning his chair a little in the process.  He thinks he knows the routine, now, but she surprises him by holding his knees together while she climbs into his lap.  He sits still and lets her maneuver him and herself and the chair until she’s perched on top of his thighs facing the computer.  She twists her head enough so he can see her smiling at him, so he smiles back in approval.  He can’t see the screen as well with her on top of his legs like this, but he can lean his torso a little to the side to see, so he does to reach around for the keyboard, but he rests his hand instead on the desk when she says,

            “I want to play.”

            “Okay,” he says, because it really is.  Still, he logs in and sets a few things up before relinquishing control, still leaning a little to the side so he can see the screen over her shoulder.  She’s been watching him long enough to know the basics, so he lets her mess around and get a feel for things for a few minutes, trying to ignore the way she laughs every time she makes a mistake and hops a little in his lap when she does something well.  He finds himself laughing along, too, and trying to show her what to do instead, pointing around her.  She doesn’t seem to want to play well, necessarily, though, just have fun, because at one point she just runs her character into a wall and makes it jump up and down.

            “What are you doing?” he says, chuckling as she keeps doing it.  “You should go that way.  Turn around.  Stop doing that!”  She seems insistent on getting her character to jump through the wall, though, or something, and he rolls his eyes before trying to bat her hand around from the mouse.

            “No,” she says, moving it aside.

            “Go that way, then.  You’re supposed to be shooting people.”

            “No,” she says firmly, though Jungkook can tell she’s grinning.  Her character jumps again, and Jungkook lets out a breath through his lips harshly enough to make her flinch a little in his lap.

            “You’re making me look bad,” he says, grabbing her hand and the mouse and moving her character away from the wall finally.  “Haven’t you learned anything from watching me?”

            “No, no,” Y/N says, laughing as they fight for control over the character, its movements reflected by the mouse moving across the desk in opposite directions.

            “Just, look, shoot that guy!” Jungkook says, leaning forward a little and pressing into Y/N’s back in the process.  “Shoot, shoot!”  Y/N thankfully does, even though she misses and laughs about it when the other player turns around and kills her.  “You’re really bad at this,” he says, though there’s no malice in his voice.

            “It’s fun,” she says, and that’s enough for him to let go of the mouse and let her play how she wants.  She doesn’t make it easy on him, though, because he wants to win, and wants her to win, so relinquishing control to her pains him a little.  Her laughs make up for it, though.  He finds himself sighing teasingly every time she dies or refuses to acknowledge the point of the mission, though, muttering about how she’s probably being beaten by some thirteen-year-olds. 

           He’s glad that she’s enjoying herself, but he feels like he can only take so much silliness and losing on purpose, but instead of reaching for the mouse again he reaches for her, instead.  Part of him knows he shouldn’t.  Knows Seokjin wouldn’t like it, knows she could easily tell him, fears what will happen if his boss finds out, but he trusts that she will say no if she wants him to stop, so he moves confidently around her and puts a hand on her bare thigh that’s still slightly crushing his own.  She doesn’t seem to notice at first, or doesn’t mind, because she keeps playing, keeps losing, keeps laughing.  She always wears these shorts to bed that barely exist, which means there is a lot of skin for him to explore, and it’s only when he starts really moving his hand back and forth and over and around her thigh does she seem to notice.  She stills a little, but doesn’t say anything, and continues to die on screen, though her laughter seems to be dying as well.  He keeps sweeping his thumb over her skin even as he leans a little closer with his chin into her shoulder, and its pressure makes her character stop on the screen, but she still doesn’t say anything. 

           After a moment she keeps running, so he keeps moving, his other hand that’s been hanging uselessly over the armrest coming up slowly to wrap around her.  She’s wearing another oversized sweater that’s so soft to the touch he has been wanting to bury his face in it a little, but instead he just lets his hand glide over the material over her stomach.  This makes her stop completely, and Jungkook can hear the sharp intake of breath she takes even as her character is shot to bits on screen.  He moves his chin even as he moves his hands, not sure which softness he likes more, her skin or the sweater, to test the softness of the patch of skin on her neck.  Her hair barely covers it, and her wet strands have been dripping occasionally on it and her sweater and even the computer desk, and as Jungkook presses his nose gently into the back of her neck, he can feel her wet hair on his forehead and can feel the way she has frozen in his lap.  He smooths his hand back over her stomach, feeling her twitch underneath her sweater at his touch, before pressing the lightest kiss to the back of her neck.  She tastes like oranges just enough to make him kiss her again, but she is still so still that he tells himself to stop, so he puts his forehead on her back to collect himself before lifting off, his hands coming to both of her hips to push her forward a little, and it’s then that she moves, turning around and fumbling a little until she is facing him, sitting sideways and causing him to grab onto her knees and the desk so they don’t topple over.

            “Kookie?” she says, and Jungkook can’t read her expression or tone well enough even after spending so much time with her.

            “Yeah?” he says, deciding to look anywhere but at her face and use the excuse that he wants to make sure they don’t fall out of the chair to explain why he keeps moving his hands from the desk to the chair to her back to her knees to his own lap to the back of his head where there’s suddenly an itch he just has to scratch.

            “Do you—” she says, frowning a little at him, and Jungkook rushes to apologize.

            “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t.  I shouldn’t have,” he says, ending a little lamely and still looking anywhere but at her.

            “Kookie,” she says again, her head moving back in forth in an attempt to catch his gaze.  With a sigh, she seems to give up, but then his face is caught between her hands and he’s forced to look at her.  “Do you want,” Y/N blinks, perhaps trying to find the word or the courage, “me?”

            “No,” Jungkook says immediately, because he’s not supposed to, but he knows it is a lie and knows if it is the truth then he is a dick for touching her to begin with, “I can’t.  I’m sorry.  Seokjin would.  Seokjin would kill me.”

            “Seok,” the girl says slowly, staring hard at Jungkook.  “Seok isn’t here.”  The fond nickname makes Jungkook worry even more, so he tries to look away, but Y/N is still holding him fast.  “So.  Do you?”  Her brows have softened, as has her tone.  She doesn’t sound concerned or upset, though she does sound a little anxious, and Jungkook hates himself a little for making her ever doubt that he desires her.

            “Yes,” he breathes, then, and a small, content smile starts to creep across her face even as her fingers soften on his face.  “But.  But I can’t.”

            “Why?” Y/N says, sounding genuinely interested.  One of her hands is still on his cheek, but she moves the other one through his hair even as she watches it move down his neck and over his shoulder.

            “Because, I’d never.  I’d never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Jungkook says softly, watching Y/N’s eyes roam over his face.  She only hums at that before going back to watching her hand.  The one on his face has moved to the back of his neck, her fingers moving gently and slowly, but her eyes trace her other one.  He’s taken to wearing more clothes around the house since she’s showed up, which means putting a shirt on if he’s not sleeping, but it’s thin and does nothing to stop him from feeling her running her hand down his chest.  At first her fingers are barely there, but she moves to feeling his arm that is still extended toward her, still holding onto her knees to keep her from falling off.  She seems to be tracing or testing his muscles there as she works her fingers over his bicep before moving back to his chest, more pressure and purpose behind each touch now.  He only sits and lets her touch him, watching her face intently.  He tries to think of his boss.  Of Nestor, even.  Anything to keep him from enjoying her touches.  She is just touching him, as he was just touching her, so there is no reason for him to get excited.  And if she initiates, then surely he can’t get in trouble for what happens.

            “Y/N,” he almost chokes when her hand grabs his waist.  “We should go to bed.”

            “No,” the girl mumbles, watching her thumb press into his stomach under his shirt.  She’s suddenly moving quickly, and despite what she’s just said, Jungkook thinks she’s going to go to bed, but instead he’s forced to let go of her and let his arms be useless again as she re-situates herself, her knee bumping into his even as she moves to straddle him.  The armrest on the chair prevent her from getting too close, so she rests in what he would consider a safe place on his thighs, but her hands have moved, too, and are pulling at the bottom of his shirt before he can figure out what to do with his arms again, and habitually he raises them when he feels her hands skimming over his chest.  She throws his shirt somewhere, and he reaches for her thighs again, partly to put his hands to use, partly to keep her from sliding off of him, and partly because he just wants to touch her again if he’s allowed to.  He only holds her, though, and doesn’t move much, letting her look at him and work her hands over his shoulders and down his chest.

            He’s not self-conscious about his body.  Never has been.  He’s not afraid of being judged based on what he looks like, because while it may be conceited, he knows he’s good looking.  He works hard to be fit and strong, and it pays off.  So he has never minded being looked at.  But the way Y/N is looking at him, the way she is running her fingers over him as if she is trying to memorize him and savor every second she gets to touch him, makes him want to burst.

            “Y/N,” he says, and while he wanted to sound gentle, his tone is harsher than he intended, more of a warning than anything else.  She only hums and ignores him, and he feels like they’re playing a game all over again, and he realizes that Y/N is actually stubborn, perhaps extremely so, and very set on getting her way.  The thought makes him smile and almost laugh, but her hands are too hard on his skin to make him laugh right now.  She is serious and determined, though Jungkook is still not quite sure what she is after.  He got himself into this mess, because he is stupidstupidstupid, but now he feels like he’s walked into the wrong classroom and is being forced to take a test unexpectedly that he definitely hasn’t studied for.  He doesn’t know how to pass this test, if that’s what it is, and the thought terrifies him a little.

            “Y/N,” he says, a little more desperately, but she only hums again and continues to explore, her hands increasingly moving south.  His eyes break away from her face to watch her hands, and he curses when she sees how close she is to touching him where he knows he wants her to and he curses again at himself for getting so excited about the very idea.  “Shit, Y/N,” he says, grabbing her hand the second she skims over his crotch.  “Stop.”  The word, or his tone, makes her snap her head up immediately and stare at him.  She blinks once before shrinking away just enough for him to grab her wrist tighter.  “Shit, wait.  Just.  Hold on,” Jungkook breathes, taking a deep breath to try to steady himself.  “That’s.  Slow down.”  Jungkook curses internally again, embarrassed he’s been reduced so quickly to speaking like a grunt.  The girl shrinks a little more, and he lets go of her hand so he can hold onto her thighs again in some attempt to keep her from running away.  “I’m sorry.  I do.  I do want you, Y/N.  But it doesn’t matter what I want.  Fuck, it’s just.  Seokjin.  He.  We can’t.  Trust me.  It wouldn’t be good.”

            “Seok isn’t here,” Y/N whispers again, and Jungkook nods, but the girl only sighs, pushing on his chest and then on his wrists to let go of her.  He does, because he must, and can only watch as she goes to the bathroom.  He waits, trying to calm himself down, cursing the whole time, and watches when she comes out and picks up her phone from the table by his bed where it’s been charging.  He watches as she types something almost frantically, a frown on her face, and he only stands up after a minute, realizing she might be texting Seokjin.  He tries not to look threatening or like he’s panicking when he comes up to her, trying to keep a safe distance from her, and only looks at her cautiously when she hands him her phone.  There’s a long string of text messages in front of him between Y/N and Seokjin, and he doesn’t feel like he should be looking at them, but she is the one handing him her phone.  The first one the girl wants him to read is from last week, and he glances up at her the moment he reads it, but she only gestures back toward the phone.

 

**Y/N (Thursday, 4:32PM):**

Can I touch Kookie?

 

**Seok (Thursday, 5:12PM):**

Good afternoon to you, too, little one

I’m glad to hear from you

Of course you can

I’m sure he’ll let you

 

**Y/N (Thursday, 5:14PM):**

😊

Thank you

How is work going?

 

**Seok (Thursday, 5:18PM):**

Fine, fine

Enjoy yourself, ok?

p.s. he loves being teased

 

            “I,” Jungkook stutters, looking up at Y/N.  “Do not.”  She only takes her phone and scrolls down some before handing it back to him, and he shuts his mouth to keep reading a set of messages he realizes she must have sent after they got back from Nestor’s.

 

**Y/N (Saturday, 9:37AM):**

Whatever Kookie tells you, I am sorry

It was dumb

I wanted to do the right thing

I’m not ungrateful for you or anything you’ve done

I promise

 

**Seok (Saturday, 10:11AM):**

Slow down, little one

What happened?

 

**Y/N (Saturday, 10:13AM):**

I tried to quit

Or I did

I told Nestor I quit

 

**Seok (Saturday, 10:15AM):**

I’m glad to hear it

Though I’m guessing he didn’t take it so well

 

**Y/N (Saturday, 10:17AM):**

No

But Kookie saved me

 

**Seok (Saturday, 10:18AM):**

Make sure you reward him then, yeah?

 

**Y/N (Saturday, 10:19AM):**

I will 😊

 

            “I don’t want—” Jungkook starts, staring up at Y/N again, but he can’t even finish his thought in his own head before she’s grabbing her phone and swiping to what she had apparently just sent to his boss.

 

**Y/N (11:43PM):**

Can Kookie touch me???

 

**Seok (11:44PM):**

I imagine he’s very capable

And he has been already, hasn’t he?

 

**Y/N (11:45PM):**

Hand holding and cuddling, sure

I mean more than that

Is he allowed?

 

**Seok (11:45PM):**

If you want him to, little one, of course he is

 

**Y/N (11:46PM):**

Thank you

 

**Seok (11:46PM):**

Sleep well, I’ll see you soon

 

            “But I.  He,” Jungkook stammers, letting Y/N take her phone back easily.  “But.  I’m not paying for you.”  Y/N huffs and looks so angry Jungkook winces, and he staggers back when the phone is thrusted toward him again. 

 _I’d hope not, you dick.  I quit.  I’m just me now.  You can touch me.  But since I know you’ll do whatever Seok says, obey him if that’s the incentive you need._  

           “I don’t do whatever Seokjin says,” Jungkook mumbles, though the girl isn’t really wrong.  “It just.  Feels wrong.  Like I’m stealing you from him.  And I would never do that to him.  You don’t know what he’s done for me.  I can’t betray him.”

            “It’s okay,” Y/N says, waving her phone in front of him again.  “Seok said.  It’s okay.”

            “I know.  I know, it just feels wrong.”  A sigh escapes from his mouth before he can stop it, but then he rubs his hands over his eyes and groans, unsure of what to do.  There’s a clump of dust or a spider web on his ceiling that catches his attention, and he stares up at it, his mouth agape, while he tries to figure out what to do.  He’s never had to think so hard about touching a girl before.  He doesn’t own her, but neither does Seokjin, but she asked for his boss’ permission even though he wasn’t paying her anymore, and that alone has sent his mind spinning, unsure of why Y/N would ask Seokjin in the first place but also why his boss would be okay with him doing anything with her.  There’s also the matter of his job that’s holding him back.  On the one hand, he was told to take care of the girl, but on the other hand, the very fact that he was told to take care of her while his boss was gone meant that the situation was only temporary, anyway, at least for the time being, and it looked more and more like a clump of dust on the ceiling, not a spiderweb, thankfully, the more he looked at it.  He vaguely hears Y/N putting her phone down, and his neck almost snaps when he felt her touching his hips.

            “You don’t have to,” he blurts out, blinking down at her as she blinks up at him.  “Reward me.  Not like this.  I don’t.  I mean, you don’t have to just because he said to.  Right?”

            “I want to,” she says, as if it was that simple, so he lets out a simple,

            “Oh,” before going back to watching her closely.  She must be afraid he’s going to back away or chicken out, which he would never do, because she surges forward up on her tiptoes towards him, but even with all of her efforts she can’t quite reach his face, and he actually laughs because he is stupidstupidstupid, though his laughter only increases when she lowers herself back down and lets go of him, frowning up at him.  Her arms cross over her chest and she actually huffs, which only makes Jungkook laugh louder until he’s the one hurrying toward her before she gets madder at him. 

           “Sorry, sorry,” he says, picking her up easily and carrying her back toward his desk.  “You’re just so fucking cute.”  She seems to flail a little at first, whether at being carried or because of his confession, but she turns her head to see where he’s taking her and calms down once she’s put down, though her arms are still crossed over her chest in what looks like annoyance.  He puts himself between her legs and moves in close to her to even the playing field a little.  In fact, she’s almost his height now, and that only makes him smile again, though he steels his face and wills himself to be serious.  He pushes her wet hair behind her ears and searches her face for some sign of happiness and not pure annoyance as he speaks.

            “Do you remember the first time I saw you in the club?”  He waits until the girl nods slowly, her arms sinking into her lap.  “You were beautiful.  Still are.  I noticed right away.  But you were off limits.  And that’s just what you became in my head.  Even after.  Even after I, uh, taught you some moves.  Even after Seokjin hired you that one night.  You.  Girls in the club are only borrowed, not bought.  They belong to Nestor.  And, I know,” Jungkook says, holding up a finger when the girl’s mouth opened.  “That no one can really own anyone else.  And that you quit.  And I’m really fucking proud of you for that, by the way.  But in my head, that’s what you were.  This beautiful, out of reach girl.  And then when Seokjin took an interest, that only solidified in my mind that you would never be mine.  Or, I could never.  You know?”  Jungkook sighs, waiting for the girl to nod again.  There’s a tiny smile on her face which encourages him to keep going. 

           “And then suddenly you were in my apartment, in my bed.  And not to sound creepy, like I know it’s going to sound that way, but suddenly you weren’t out of reach.  And yet you were still off limits in my mind.  Is this making any sense?”  Another sigh escapes Jungkook’s mouth because he does not feel like he’s any good at this talking stuff.  Seokjin is smooth and would handle this well.  But the girl nods and smiles a little wider.   She motions with her hands that she wants to write something down, and he points over at the table. 

            “Phone?”  But she shakes her head, and so he holds up a finger and squeezes her knee gently before practically running to the living room where she’s left paper and pens from when she was doing her homework.  He carries them back carefully to her, and her smile grows when he enters the room again which does not do things to his heart.  When he hands them over, she immediately begins scribbling, and he tries to wait patiently for her to finish, but every time he tries to look, she pulls the paper away closer toward herself and gives him a teasing frown.  He resigns to just standing between her legs again and tries not to run his fingers up and down her thighs while he waits, but he isn’t completely successful.  Still, she doesn’t bat his hands away or anything, and only when she is finished is he forced to stop so he can look at what she’s done.  It’s a flow chart that starts with the question “Should I kiss Y/N?” and Jungkook has to laugh before nodding and following the line of questions.

_Do I want to kiss Y/N?  (Yes)— > Does Y/N want to kiss me?_

            He looks up for confirmation even though he thinks he knows the answer and sees her nodding.

_Does Y/N want to kiss me?  (Yes)— > Do I care what Seokjin thinks?  (Yes)—> Did Seokjin say I could kiss Y/N? (Yes)—> I should kiss Y/N._

            “Well, when you put it that simply,” Jungkook says, throwing the paper down.  He pulls on Y/N’s back even though she’s already practically as close as she can be to him and cups her face with his other hand before reaching down just slightly to kiss her.  He thinks she might have been smiling when he did, because at first his lips simply press into hers, and she tastes like oranges, always like oranges even though he’s never seen her eat a single one, and he pulls back enough to let her back out if she wants to, but instead she leans toward him.  Her eyes are closed, and it’s that tiny action that lets him know she trusts him and is waiting, so he meets her and hears the sigh at the back of her throat that vibrates all the way to his own lips and has him moving to try to make her release another one. 

           She makes it easy on him, really, because she seems to relax more and more into each kiss, so much so that she stops kissing Jungkook back, which makes him pull away, but Y/N only smiles at him before wrapping her arms around him and putting her head on his chest.  He hugs her back, resting his chin on her head, and tries not to freak out or over think anything until he picks her back and up carries her to bed.  She laughs slightly when he drops her, and the sound makes Jungkook even giddier than he already feels as he climbs into bed beside her.  She has been lying facing him every night since Nestor’s, and tonight is no different.  She has been touching him every night, too, pulling on him or throwing a leg over him, and tonight is no different, only more.  She brushes his bangs to the side which only makes him shake his head to put them back in his eyes so she will move them again.  She presses her thumb on his lips and watches as he opens his mouth slowly only to playfully bite it and growl at her.  She pokes his chest and his arms which makes him flex each muscle she touches in an effort to show off, probably.  But he does it all because she laughs and draws closer to him, and Jungkook does not think about how he only gets to spend one more night with her when she curls up against him and sighs contently before falling asleep.

 

            You wake up the next morning not feeling light like you thought you would.  You don’t feel happy, either.  Instead, your chest is heavy and there is some sense of dread weighing upon you.  You look at Kookie sleeping beside you and can’t imagine why you feel so worried.  Your lips are still tingling, but your tongue sits heavy in your mouth, and even when he wakes up later and smiles at you, you find you can’t say anything.  You’re usually fine with talking in the morning, and you’ve been fine talking to Kookie more and more every day, so you can’t imagine why, when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.  The boy must notice the panic on your face or the way your whole body has gone rigid, because he sits up immediately, pulling you with him as he goes until you’re sitting up, too, leaning against him.

            “Hey, what’s wrong?” he says, obviously trying to keep the panic in his half-mumbled morning voice in check.  “Y/N, tell me.  Are you okay?  Did you have a bad dream?”  You shake your head, relieved you can at least move now, but he shakes your shoulders a little.  “What’s wrong?  Was it the kissing?”  Another head shake, and Jungkook sighs, leaning his head against your back.  “Okay.  Okay.  You have to tell me what’s wrong, then.  Please tell me.”  It’s that, his desire to hear you speak, to say something, that makes you fumble for your phone and type out something, your eyes still blinking from sleep and the shock of the sun peeping through the windows. 

_Can’t talk._

           “You can,” Jungkook says, looking over your shoulder.  “You can talk a lot.  Plenty.  You know lots of words.  Just talk to me.”  You take a deep breath instead, wondering what to even say.  Jungkook’s head returns to your back, his cheek pressed against you, and you feel him rock your bodies back and forth gently.  You’re worried he’s gone back to sleep eventually, but instead you hear him humming and then singing softly.  It’s not a song you know, and it’s not in English, but his voice is so beautiful it doesn’t even matter.  When he stops you twist a little in his arms to look at him.  He’s moved so he can look at you, too, and he smiles when you do.

            “Kookie,” you say, “you’re so good.”

            “Oh, thanks,” he says, laughing awkwardly.

            “I don’t want to,” you say, and Jungkook tilts his head at you, raising one of his eyebrows like he does whenever he doesn’t understand you.  “Don’t want to go,” you finish, and he makes a noise of understanding.  He doesn’t say anything, though, just puts his chin back on your shoulder and sways back and forth a few times.  You lean your head against his, grateful it’s the side of your face that isn’t still bruised and let the silence work between the pair of you.  You can feel yourself drifting back to sleep before Jungkook speaks again, his voice so quiet that you almost miss it.

            “Seokjin will take good care of you,” he whispers, and you don’t doubt it.  You’re not worried about seeing Seokjin again.  You want to, in fact.  You just don’t want to leave Jungkook.

 

            It seems a little pointless, but you stick close to Jungkook the whole day, ignoring the homework you’re still struggling to catch up on.  You go with him to run errands; he needs food for just himself now, and you watch fondly as he almost buys the cereal you like before remembering he won’t eat it.  You try to have him help you pick out flowers for Seokjin, but when he just says they all look nice, you settle on blue hydrangeas on your own.  You don’t let go of his hand, either, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  You’re both relatively quiet the whole day, too, a shared sense of uneasiness pervading through his small apartment that will soon be only his again.  You keep him close at night, too, making him kiss you a little longer and a little harder, and in the morning you leave him in bed to sleep as you pack up your things.  You hardly have any, but they seem to be everywhere, and the place is tiny, but you comb through each room finding more and more little items, pens and hairclips that certainly weren’t there a few weeks ago.  You save his room for last, and he’s just lying there, his hands under his head, watching you when you come out of the bathroom.

            “What?” you say, and his eyes are still a little droopy and puffy from sleep as he shrugs.  You don’t quite believe that he has nothing to say, but when he doesn’t answer you finish packing and then stand by his bed, pulling his covers off so he’ll get up.  He doesn’t even move, and when he’s left in just his shorts in front of you, you have to roll your eyes.  You have learned that, without a reason to get up, the boy is skilled in taking forever to wake up.  Patting his shin, you gesture toward the door, but he still doesn’t move, his eyes watching you with a smirk growing on his face.

            “Do you want to meet him when he lands?” he says, only moving his leg to fight off your hand.

            “No.”

            “Then we have time.  He’ll text once he’s home,” Jungkook says, and he moves his arms to pat the space beside him.  Rolling your eyes again, you start to climb back in bed, making sure to put your hand on his chest and your knees on his thighs.  He lets out a grunt or two before you flop yourself down completely on top of him, grabbing both of his hands and pulling them to the side to try to resemble a starfish.  “You know,” Jungkook says, squirming a little beneath you, “if you think this is going to help me get up faster, I have to let you know you are sorely mistaken.”  You only hum, closing your eyes and letting your head rise and fall with his chest.  You let go of his hands to curl up a little, and you’re glad when his hands come to rest on your back, his fingers beginning to move up and down and trace faint patterns over your shirt.  At some point you must have fallen asleep, though you’re not sure if it’s after he started humming or after he slipped a hand under your shirt, but you wake up to an empty bed, though the sheets are still warm.

            “Kookie?” you say, clearing your throat when the sound is barely decipherable even to yourself.  His head pops around the corner of the bathroom doorway.

            “Five minutes, okay?  Seokjin called.”

            “Yeah.  Okay,” you say, blinking rapidly and sitting up quickly.  You slap your face a little, wincing from the cheek that’s still sore, and clamber out of bed, rushing to get your shoes on.  By the time Jungkook’s out of the bathroom, you’re standing by your bag, ready to go, and he gives you a nod before grabbing his keys.  He makes it to the door before you feel brave enough to say his name, and he thankfully turns around and holds out his hand which you take gladly.  He only lets go when he has to, and even in the car he reaches for you as you stare out the window, the flowers you had picked out sitting in your lap.  You’ve forgotten the landmarks to Seokjin’s already, so you arrive sooner than you expected, but Jungkook parks and turns the car off, waiting for you before moving.  You can’t quite pinpoint what you’re feeling, an odd mixture of excitement and disappointment, so you open your door slowly, not surprised when Jungkook rushes out to finish opening it for you.  He offers you his hand to help you out, but you can see the two guards by the door already and only smile at him.  He takes your bag instead, and you follow closely after him, clutching onto the bundle of hydrangeas.  Seungkwan and Wonwoo are on duty, and the former smiles when he sees you, waving eagerly at you.

            “Y/N!  Welcome back!  We’ve missed you.”  You think maybe only he has, not Wonwoo, but you smile back anyway.

            “Thank you,” you say to be polite, and the boy beams at you as you walk past.  The elevator takes longer than you remember, and then you’re at the door.  Jungkook is still in front of you, so you think he is going to knock or just go in, but he stands by the door and waits for you.

            “Kookie,” you say before going in, and he tilts his head like he has done when he wants you to go on or explain something.  “Thank you.”  He only nods, and you take a deep breath before opening the door.

            “I don’t care,” you immediately hear Seokjin saying, his tone exasperated.  “For the last time, Namjoon, I know you disagree, but you can either do what I say or find work somewhere else.”  It’s barely ten in the morning, but Seokjin is already nursing a half-finished drink and is apparently talking to Namjoon over the phone, his cell lit up on the counter.  Before Namjoon can respond, Seokjin looks up and sees you, a faint smile on his lips.  “Now, I am tired, so go complain to Yoongi about me.  We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”  His finger swipes over his phone to hang up, his gaze never leaving you, and already you felt your cheeks burning slightly.  “Hello, little one.”  With a huge smile at hearing his pet name for you in person again, you practically run to him, his arms opening just in time to catch you in a tight hug, dropping the flowers on the island beside him before you reach him.  You can feel and hear him laugh slightly, and you can feel something else under your arm on his side poking into your skin that makes you pull away faster than you want to.

            “What’s this?” you say, moving his arm to see.  He is wearing a button-up shirt like you have seen him in many times with a thin tie, but his blazer is already off, and there are two straps over his shoulders going under his arms, and under his left arm is a holster, holding the thing that had poked you slightly.  A pistol.  You scramble away from him as quickly as you can, not sure if you scream or merely gasp, an image of Nestor flashing through your head along with his warning, and even though Seokjin does reach for you, you fling your arms widely to keep him away, stumbling backwards through the kitchen until your back hits a counter.  You make your way along it, your hands in front of you as if they could stop a bullet until you’ve backed yourself into a corner.  Someone is muttering “no” over and over who you realize belatedly is you even as you sink to the floor.

            “Kookie!  Kookie!” you yell without really thinking, ducking your head even as you do so, unable to look at Seokjin staring at you.  He hasn’t actually moved from beside the island, his hands held out in front of him but frozen in surprise.  You don’t have to lift your head to know when Jungkook is in front of you as you can hear him cursing and muttering, though you’re not sure who he’s addressing.  He’s asking you something, you think, but you can only feel yourself shaking as a gun presses into your back, and you struggle to stand up to get away from it, but instead you only lurch forward, grabbing onto Jungkook in front of you.  He huffs and staggers on his heels where he’s squatting in front of you but recovers quickly, holding onto your shoulders and then managing to pick you up even though you are no help.  You cling to him and squeeze your eyes shut, clawing at his back and struggling to breathe as he stands.  You try to just feel his hands on you, just listen to whatever he is mumbling in your ear, but a door has been thrown open, and Nestor is yelling at you, his voice full of spite, the threat heavy on his lips, and you can only gasp, unable to make it stop, unable to make him stop until you hear a door slamming.  Your eyes fling open, and you blink rapidly as Jungkook comes into focus in front of you.

            “Kookie?” you say, hearing and feeling the boy sigh.  You’re in some room, perhaps Seokjin’s guest bedroom, and Jungkook had shut the door.

            “You’re safe,” he says, pulling your head back down to his shoulder.  “You’re safe,” he repeats over and over again, even as he carries you to the bed and sets you down gently and curls up behind you.

            You were afraid you would never be safe again, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. Here’s to hoping that talk that Seokjin mentioned happens soon for everyone’s sake.
> 
> As always, please take care of yourself <3
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore.


	11. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some of Jungkook’s (and Seokjin's) backstory. I was referencing or alluding or hinting at it sometimes (I think), and had always had it in my head but was never sure if I was going to add it to the story. But I think I liked how this chapter turned out. Let me know if you have any questions, though.
> 
> There is a lot of flashing back in time and coming back to the present in this chapter. I hope it’s all clear. If I was fancy I’d put something between the paragraphs. But I guess I’m not :p
> 
> In other news, why, yes, I am still sick, but feel like I’m finally on the mends, YAY. Life has been crazy, so I think I'm just reduced to weekend updates for a while. I will strive to write as much as possible, though!
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, abuse of power, threats, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

             “Hey…

            Hey kid…

            If you don’t watch it, you’ll hurt yourself.

            Hey.”

            The guy looked like he had never said the word before, or certainly not a lot.  “Hey” didn’t belong to businessmen in tailored suits.  “Hey” was too crude and lowly for someone so devastatingly handsome and put together.  “Hey” didn’t belong on his lips.  And he didn’t belong in the gym, and he especially didn’t have a right to suddenly appear and tell Jungkook how to throw a punch.

            “Why don’t you shut up before I have to hurt you instead?”  He says, because Jungkook has always been a little stupidstupidstupid, and the guy’s smile is quick and unsettling.  The way he strips off his blazer slowly even more so, because while Jungkook could tell the guy was fit, his dress-shirt that is almost painfully too tight only solidifies the fact.  And even then, the guy doesn’t stop with his jacket but starts to unbutton his shirt, too, until he’s peeling it off his arms that don’t look quite as big as Jungkook’s even though he would be sure to win in a shoulder measuring contest. 

           It’s only when the guy kicks off his shoes does Jungkook think he maybe should have kept his mouth shut, because the guy hops into the ring with such confidence—he doesn’t even wrap his hands—that Jungkook can only watch for a second, wondering what kind of crazy person he has just challenged.  The guy is ready before he is and only indicates that he’s impatient by waving his hand at Jungkook while the boy just blinks for a second by the punching bag that’s still swinging slightly in front of him.  He came to the gym because he has too much on his mind, because he is feeling lost and scared and confused, and he hates all of those feelings, but the man rocking back on forth on the balls of his feet is only making his brain spin faster, so before he has to think much more about it, he joins him in the ring, circling him closely for a few turns before making his move.  He’s not sure how he feels about knocking out a guy who’s still wearing slacks, but the guy doesn’t make it easy on him.  He’s quick on his feet and dodges so easily he almost looks comical, but every time Jungkook makes eye contact with him he can see a fire behind his eyes that he’s only recently seen in his own.  It’s that, the fact that the man was asking to be punched for some reason while simultaneously making it difficult, that makes Jungkook concentrate and do his best to deliver.  And he doesn’t have to wait long, as he distracts the man well enough with his left hook to get in a quick but powerful jab to his side.  He winces more than Jungkook expects, but he doesn’t back off.  Instead he twists in such a way that makes Jungkook reach down to pull his legs out from under him, and the man falls harder than Jungkook had expected, too, his weight hitting the mat with a loud thud.  Jungkook is on him before he can react, though, slamming into the guy’s face hard enough to break the skin on his own knuckles if they weren’t tapped up well.  The impact seems to catch the guy by surprise, as Jungkook gets another hit off before he feels the man trying to kip up or kick him off, but even that only makes him want to hit the guy harder. 

            So he does.

            “That’s enough,” someone says, and Jungkook is pretty sure the room was empty just a few minutes ago, but there’s some scrawny fellow standing in the door leaning against the frame with his arms over his chest.  His hair is almost as white as his skin, though he doesn’t look much older than Jungkook, and he’s dressed as well as the guy Jungkook’s been pummeling.  “You really needed to get that out of your system, huh, kid?”

            “I’m not a kid,” Jungkook heaves, looking down at the guy who just looks ridiculous now.  His face is still turned to the side, though it doesn’t look nearly as pretty as it did a minute ago, and there’s the smallest smile on his lips.  His eyes are closed, though, so Jungkook can’t tell if he succeeded in giving the man what he wanted.

            “Sure, sure.  Just get off my boss before I make you, yeah?” the tiny man says, and Jungkook snorts because the guy looks like he would break in half if Jungkook even touched him, but he finds himself obeying, anyway.  There’s something hard and dangerous about the guy’s deep voice and intense gaze that he is suddenly too exhausted to deal with.  The word “boss” throws him, too, because he should have known, but Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid.

            “I’m sorry,” he gasps suddenly, scrambling off the guy and across the mat faster than a cockroach under a spotlight.

            “No worries,” the man says, ambling toward the ring.  “He did ask for it.  I must say I’m impressed, really.  Never seen anyone best him so easily.”  Said man groans a little on the mat, rolling over onto his side and spitting out what looks like blood but thankfully no teeth.  “You new to the gym?” the man outside the ring continues to ask, and Jungkook only nods dumbly, watching the taller man on the blue floor slowly getting up.  “Well that explains some things,” pale man says, seemingly more to himself than to Jungkook even though he’s leaning over the mat now, his head in his hands.  “Still, can’t have it getting out that some newbie beat Kim Seokjin so easily, can we boss?”  The man says the name while looking at Jungkook, as if it holds some greater meaning than Jungkook can ascribe to it, but it still makes him finally move to help the guy’s boss up.  He scoots back as soon as the man is standing, suddenly aware of how tall he is, of how he really didn’t need Jungkook’s help to get up at all.  He doesn’t even reach for the bars or for his friend, or, employee, for support.  Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid for ever agreeing to hit the guy who is intimidating as fuck now that he’s standing in front of him, beaten but not down.

            “So, want to be my new body guard?” he says to Jungkook, wiping his mouth even as he says so.  Jungkook only blinks, noticing the small man grinning wickedly up at him.

            “Who are you?” Jungkook asks, trying to figure out why he needs a bodyguard. 

            “If not, what about my trainer?  Or at least my sparring partner?  Yoongi can’t quite keep up with me,” the man says, grinning wider.

            “I could.  Just don’t want to,” the smaller man, Yoongi, says, a hint of annoyance but also fondness in his voice.

            “Why do you—” Jungkook starts again, but the man is already making his way out of the ring toward his shirt.

            “Are you in college?”

            “Yes,” Jungkook says, frowning at the man’s back.

            “What are you studying?”

            “Kinesiology.  Well.  I was.”

            “Oh?” the man says, turning back toward him with a raised eyebrow.  “Switching majors?”

            “Not exactly,” Jungkook mumbles, flexing his fingers.  It’s none of the man’s business, so he doesn’t say anything else, and the man only studies him for a second longer before resuming dressing himself.

            “Well, what do you say?  I could use a new bodyguard.  Be back here tomorrow, same time, if you’re interested.  Or we can see if I can’t beat you the second time around.”  The man doesn’t even turn to look at him again, and once he’s buttoned his shirt and slipped on his shoes and jacket again, he looks even better than he did when he first walked in, more alive somehow.  Jungkook can only watch him go, blinking stupidly at the empty door and jumping slightly when he hears the other man still in the room chuckling softly.

            “He tends to have that effect on people,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook only snarls.

            “What effect?”

            “That,” the man says, waving a finger at Jungkook.  He doesn’t know what the guy is talking about, so he only stands on the mat and watches him shuffle away, his shoulders curled in and his whole posture much more stooped than his boss’ had been.

            “Hey,” Jungkook calls out before the man disappears around the corner.  “What happened to his old body guard?  Did he die?”

            “No, worse,” the guy snorts.

            “What?” Jungkook whispers, wondering what is worth than death.

            “He got a boyfriend,” the guy says, waving a hand behind him as a form of goodbye.

           

            Jungkook does not plan to go back the next day.  But Dr. Moore sends him another e-mail, and Jungkook really wants to punch something.  It might as well be whoever this Kim Seokjin is.  After all, the name means nothing to him.

 

            “Kookie, Kookie, Kookie.”  It’s a name that he does not think fits him.  He is not cute.  He does not look like an actual cookie.  It is not his name, and it was given to him without his consent.  It’s been said condescendingly to him before, said teasingly, in fact was given for that very reason, probably, to torture him, but he’s heard it endearingly in the past two years, too.  He’s heard the pleading behind his name in times of dire trouble, too, and understood the benefits of having his real name hidden from most people associated with Kim Seokjin.  He’s heard it shouted and whispered and said as if it doesn’t matter at all, so he’s used to it just washing over him, to becoming something of a background noise or simply a noise meant to call him.  It’s his bell to summon him to duty and not much more. 

           And yet the way the girl is practically whimpering it sounds like nothing he’s ever heard before.  It doesn’t make him annoyed or on guard.  It makes him terrified because he’s at a complete loss.  He’s not sure how long he lies there holding her, trying to get her to calm down.  He’s not even sure what happened, what has gotten her so upset.  He had just stood in the doorway while she went in, wanting to give her and Seokjin space, and the next thing he knew she was practically running away from his boss and cowering in the corner of the kitchen.  He can’t imagine what Seokjin said or did for her to react in such a manner, especially since she was the one who almost ran into his arms.  So he had asked, and was still asking, trying to figure out what happened and what was wrong and why she was crying, but she isn’t responding, so eventually he gives up and just lies there, not knowing what to do.  He loses what little concept of time he’s had, only relieved when she seems to still and quiet beside him.  Still, he doesn’t move except to rub a hand up and down her arm like he’s been doing for so long he’s surprised he hasn’t started a fire yet, his eyes glazing over as he’s unable to focus on the back of her head since she’s so close, her hairs multiplying before him.

 

            The guy doesn’t even ask his name for weeks.  There’s not official spoken between them, either.  He just shows up and lets Jungkook take a couple of swings at him.  Jungkook doesn’t always win, though if he was counting, he still always landed the most punches.  Not that hits mattered in the end, but he needed something on the guy.  He didn’t know who he was or why he kept coming back except what he had initially said; no one at the gym had ever beaten him before, and Jungkook made a worthy opponent who actually challenged him.  He doesn’t mention the bodyguard job when he shows back up.  In fact, Jungkook thinks he’s forgotten about it or retracted his offer or gotten someone else already, because he doesn’t mention it for weeks.  He just shows up and hardly speaks and gets in the ring with Jungkook to spar.  Jungkook doesn’t mind.  In fact, they arrange to meet up more and more to do just that.  The guy never seems to run out of energy, and Jungkook is excited to have someone who keeps him on his toes literary and figuratively. 

           Because the guy is clearly studying him.  He asks questions without words and gets answers even when Jungkook is silent.  His gaze digs deep into everything Jungkook is trying to keep to himself, and his laugh never fails to rattle Jungkook, especially as it always feels like whiplash.  One moment Jungkook could be beating the guy’s face in and the next the guy was cracking up about something.  Jungkook started to wonder if it was some technique to make Jungkook drop his guard, so he took to never laughing along and only growing tenser whenever the man indulged in laughter.  And even when Jungkook gets lost enough in trying to avoid the guy’s punches, he knows that the guy he brings with him is scrutinizing him. 

           It’s not the same pale guy from before, though he does come sometimes, but another guy whose name is apparently Namjoon.  He’s as tall as Seokjin but apparently is “So clumsy he’s bound to punch himself in the face before he even touches you” so merely watches from the sidelines.  He’s not sure exactly what his relationship to Seokjin is, but Jungkook deduces that Namjoon works for him.  So for a few weeks he beats up this acquaintance because the guy asks for it and tries to keep his head down at school and ignore the flood of e-mails Dr. Moore sends.  He stops responding, too, but they keep coming, and his thoughts of running away only make him punch harder and move faster.  Seokjin notices, because Jungkook realizes the guy notices everything but never lets on that he does, but doesn’t ask about it, just makes a few comments here and there.  And he doesn’t bring up the bodyguard thing until a few weeks into what has apparently turned about to be training for getting randomly jumped by Jackie Chan.   

            It didn’t bother Jungkook that the guy wasn’t paying him to spar.  They had never discussed it, so he wasn’t expecting anything.  He has been using the gym more than he had planned, too, and finally wonders why no one has said anything.  He’d come in one day just wanting to use the equipment for a bit, and the guy in charge had been cool enough to let him.  But it’s been days, weeks, now, and he just waves Jungkook by.  Jungkook is poor enough to know asking could mean he suddenly has to start paying.  Perhaps the guy has thought he’s been someone else this whole time.  But he asks anyway because he’s been a little more than on edge lately about doing the right thing and covering his bases and making sure things are communicated clearly to him.

            “Oh, Mr. Kim’s paid for you, kid.  No worries,” the guy says as if that explains everything.  First, it takes Jungkook a couple of minutes to remember who Mr. Kim is, because he hears Namjoon calling for “Seokjin” a lot, but not “Mr. Kim.”  And it sits uneasily enough with Jungkook to make him ask “Mr. Kim” why he did it, though he waits until they’re done for the day, hoping he’s worn the guy out enough to avoid him getting upset.

            “It’s the least I could do,” Seokjin says as he’s getting dressed again in another suit and tie.  “I’d happily pay you more for your services, or in some other way, if you’d like that.”

            “No,” Jungkook hastens to say, tying his own shoes so he doesn’t have to look at the guy watching him.  “That’s not necessarily.”

            “Are you upset I paid for you?” he hears the man say carefully, but Jungkook shakes his head quickly.

            “No, I appreciate it.  I just wasn’t sure why you did.  Or what you were expecting.”

            “I expect you to meet me here when I ask and try to kick my ass.  Also, today I’m insisting you come to eat.  I’m starving, and there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”  Jungkook reasons that he should take longer to consider, but he’s a poor college student who finds it almost genetically impossible to say no to free food, so he agrees, following Namjoon and Seokjin out of the gym to a car where Yoongi is waiting.  He nods at Jungkook in acknowledgement before getting into the driver’s seat.  Namjoon gets in the passenger side while Jungkook follows Seokjin awkwardly into the back seats.  He tries to mind his business as much as possible in the small confines of the car while Namjoon and Yoongi talk easily with Seokjin.  The three of them seem more like friends than a boss and his employees or even co-workers, though Yoongi and Namjoon do seem to hold some sort of respect for Seokjin that they don’t hold for each other. 

           They both are coming to lunch, it seems, and it takes the car ride for Jungkook to realize they aren’t riding in Yoongi’s car but that Yoongi is driving them.  The restaurant looks excessive, too, and much too high end for Jungkook’s ripped jeans and long, baggy black shirt, but Seokjin doesn’t say anything, the other two don’t seem to care, and the maître d’ doesn’t even ask for their name or reservations but simply waves them through.  Jungkook doesn’t look up enough to know if the man is sneering at him, but his eyes do fly up when he sees a blur of pink rushing toward them.  He steps in front of Seokjin without thinking and stops whoever is running toward him by grabbing his wrist and twisting it so far behind him the boy is forced to the ground, leaving Jungkook to hover over him.  The boy’s hair is positively pink as if he doused it with Pepto-Bismal, and his eyes have become saucers from the surprise or pain of Jungkook’s grip.  There’s a curse and shuffling before Seokjin clears his throat, touching the back of Jungkook’s shoulder slowly and lightly so as to not alarm him even though he doesn’t even seem to be speaking to him.

            “Hoseok, this is Jungkook, my bodyguard.  Kookie, that poor boy you’re still holding onto is Hoseok’s boyfriend, Jimin, and I’d highly suggest you let go of him as soon as possible.  His size is deceptive.  He’s actually quite vicious.”

            “Don’t start with your tall jokes,” the boy in Jungkook’s grasp grumbles, going from glaring to smiling sweetly as soon as Jungkook helps him up.

            “So sorry,” Jungkook mumbles, backing away quickly behind Seokjin again.  The boy only laughs, though, slapping the arm of the man next to him who is busy glaring daggers at Jungkook.

            “He’s adorable, Jin,” Jimin says.  “Wherever did you find him?”

            “I’ll tell you all about it if we can all go eat, please,” Seokjin says sternly, though Jungkook can hear the endearment in his voice.  Jungkook doesn’t correct Seokjin about how he hasn’t agreed to be his bodyguard as they make their way to a large table.  And he doesn’t clarify to everyone that his name is not “Kookie.”  He eats as much as he can and actually finds himself liking the guy who used to be Seokjin’s bodyguard despite how it looked like he wanted to murder Jungkook earlier when he touched his boyfriend.  Jimin is nice, too, even if excessively touchy and a little whiny.  Jungkook finds, for the first time in weeks, that when he lets Yoongi and Seokjin drop him off later, he not only feels full but hopeful.

 

            He doesn’t really plan on being the guy’s bodyguard for long.  If he already learned from his current predicament, he would have asked more questions about who Kim Seokjin was and why he had need for a bodyguard in the first place, but he needs the money, and he finds it incredibly hard to deny the few things the man actually asks for.

 

            He has to get up to pee eventually, so he waits until the girl seems completely still, hopefully asleep, before peeling himself away, but he only makes it out of the bed before he stops.  Seokjin is standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame with his hands stuck in his pockets and a worried look on his face.  He seems to relax a little, seeing Jungkook, but he licks his lips when Jungkook gets over being startled and glares at him.  He can’t remember a time he’s glared at his boss before, certainly not since Seokjin has been his boss.

            “What did you do?” he almost hisses, certainly a tone he’s never dared to use against his boss before.  The few times he ever was sassy or disrespectful when he started working for him Seokjin shut down quickly, but now he only sighs.

            “I think she felt my gun.  Or, I know she did.”

            “Shit,” Jungkook says, sighing too.  He can feel his shoulders relax a little, as much as they can at the moment, knowing that Seokjin didn’t actually hurt the girl.  He slaps himself mentally while he’s at it for even thinking his boss would ever do such a thing.  He’s no Nestor.

            “I’m sorry,” Seokjin mutters, and Jungkook snaps his eyes back to his boss’ faces, unsure of who he’s apologizing to.  “I should have been more careful.  I was, I am just so tired.  I forgot that she—or I thought she might be better.  Or I just wasn’t thinking about it.”

            “Yeah,” Jungkook says tersely, but he calms himself quickly, because he can only imagine what the past few weeks were like for his boss and Namjoon and Hoseok.  “Is Hoseok okay?”

            “Hoseok?  Oh, of course,” Seokjin says, pushing himself off of the doorframe.  “Though, I’m sure Jimin will never let me take him away for that long again, anyway.”  He smiles slightly, and Jungkook can’t help but smile back and nod lightly.  “I don’t want to, you know?  I am trying, Kookie.  It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

            “I know,” Jungkook says softly, because he thinks he knows, at least has observed and helped his boss for the past two years enough to know that he thinks he knows.

            “But it’s no excuse,” Seokjin says, stretching his hands and sighing deeply.  He looks tired, Jungkook realizes, but something beyond mere sleepiness.  He looks worn down and exhausted.  “Besides my fuck up just now, has she—”

            “Kookie?” the girl in question has apparently woken up, her voice high while groggy and panicked all at the same time.  “Kookie?” she says again, moving on the bed looking around for him.

            “She’s calling you,” Seokjin says, looking past Jungkook toward the girl and sounding incredibly exhausted, something in his tone Jungkook has only heard maybe once before.  Jungkook looks back at the bed quickly and takes two steps before he stops again.

            “Seok?  Seok?” the girl says, finally awake enough to sit up.  She blinks her eyes several times before they go wide, big enough that Jungkook can see the whites surrounding her pupils that seem to be shaking as she searches the room.  He feels her look past him and lock onto Seokjin, and he steps away from the bed, trying to make himself as invisible as he feels.  He feels more than sees or hears his boss walk past him slowly, his moves hesitant and unlike Seokjin at all.  He seems to sag onto the bed the moment he reaches it but maintains his composure, sitting up straight next to Y/N but keeping a close distance from her.  The girl moves as soon as he sits next to her, though, closing the gap between them by wrapping around his middle.  His holster is long gone.  There’s nothing about Seokjin to make her worry.  Perhaps she knows there never was.  Jungkook thinks the girl knows Seokjin would never hurt her, and he tries not to clear his throat or make much noise as he tries to slink out of the room.  But he hasn’t even made it to the door when he hears his name again.

            “Kookie?  Kookie,” the girl says, looking up from Seokjin and reaching a hand toward him.  Jungkook looks at the hand and looks at the girl and looks at his boss who is looking at him and looking at the girl and looking at the girl’s hand and doesn’t know what to do.  He tries to picture a flow-chart in his head like Y/N might make for him, but all of the choices seem jumbled in his head.  He wants to hold the girl and be there for her and comfort her and hold her hand if that’s what she wants.  But she’s back with Seokjin now, so his job is done, and he can leave the comforting to Seokjin; he’s better at it, anyway.

            “What are you doing, Kookie?” his boss says, interrupting his over-thinking.  There’s no malice or even teasing in his voice as he pats the space beside Y/N.  “Get in bed.”  Jungkook obeys.  Because Y/N was right.  He has learned to always do what his boss says.

 

            “Is there anyone else I should know about so I don’t accidentally attack them next time they’re coming in for a hug?” Jungkook asks the next day when he’s standing awkwardly in a giant fancy office.  Seokjin is busy working on his paperwork to make things official at his giant fancy desk, but he looks up with a slight smirk on his face at the question.

            “I have a brother.  And a lot of people who work for me.  But, honestly, seeing you grab Jimin like that was pretty entertaining.  You should just keep doing that.”  Jungkook ignores the suggestion.

            “You have a brother?  Why haven’t I met him yet?”  Seokjin, or, his new boss, looks him up and down slowly and stares at him so long that Jungkook swallows thickly and looks away, trying to find something to hold his attention and distract him from the glare he’s receiving.  There’s a giant fancy trophy of some sort on a bookshelf behind Seokjin’s head that will do.

            “I think it’s safer if, for the time being, you don’t meet him yet,” his new boss finally answers.  “He’s.  He’s very protective of me and doesn’t take kindly to new people.  But if I trust you, he will trust you more easily.”

            “You don’t trust me?” Jungkook says, looking back at the man.

            “I didn’t say that.  I don’t trust or distrust you yet.  Trust takes time.  It is easily lost, though.  Just be careful not to lose mine once you’ve earned it, and everything will be fine.”

            “Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, not missing the slightly threatening tone in his boss’ voice.

            “Sir,” Seokjin says, going back to his papers.

            “Yes sir,” Jungkook corrects himself, clearing his throat once he has for some unknown reason.

            Working for Kim Seokjin is easy, Jungkook finds, in the sense that the man sticks to a strict routine.  Jungkook isn’t needed all of the time, though he thinks that’s more because Seokjin knows he’s still in college, but their training becomes more regular and intense, and he’s needed some nights and weekends to follow closely behind Seokjin.  He’s never really sure what he’s looking out for.  It’s not even necessarily cool or exciting.  He doesn’t have one of those wires trailing out of his ears like some secret service officer.  He doesn’t even have a gun or a bullet proof vest.  He just follows Seokjin, tries not to listen to every conversation that he’s present for that sounds very personal, and does what he’s told.

            Mainly because the guy pays him an exorbitant amount.  The first time he was officially paid he tried to reject it, but rejecting anything from Seokjin is almost impossible, and considered extremely rude, so Jungkook tries to never push away the hand that is now, almost literally, feeding him.  He meets Seokjin’s closest friends who all work for him, except Jimin.  Namjoon is his assistant and a constant worrier who always tells Seokjin he’s doing too much.  His constant gripping at Seokjin makes Jungkook work hard not to laugh at how upset his boss gets at the tall man.  Yoongi still drives him but handles his finances at his business.  Jungkook likes him; he’s quiet and seems apathetic but is actually extremely witty and is the best at insulting Seokjin and the others and getting away with it.  Hoseok, Seokjin’s former bodyguard, works in the PR department now, which makes sense, as the guy has a constant smile plastered to his face whenever Jungkook sees him unless someone is eyeing his boyfriend, Jimin.  Jimin.  Jimin is hard for Jungkook to figure out at first.  He’s a man of extremes, Jungkook finally settles on.  It’s all or nothing with him, and he sees the man incredibly happy and devastating sad on more than one occasion within the first few months of knowing him.  He’s unashamed and unafraid of showing his feelings and sharing his opinions, and Jungkook finds himself simply impressed with the guy’s tenacity and bravery the more he gets to know him.

            And, in hindsight, Jungkook realizes that it’s Jimin that orchestrated saving Jungkook.

            He learned early on that Jimin was training to be a psychologist.  Unknowingly, the boy was watching Jungkook the closest of all whenever they were together.  He listened more than anyone else and noticed things that everyone else missed.  And he would always tell Hoseok who would proceed to tell Seokjin.  Still, Jungkook realized all these things after the fact, so when Seokjin called him to his office one afternoon a couple months after working for him, he was blindsided by the entire conversation.

            “I’m going to take care of Dr. Moore,” his boss says simply, hardly looking up from all of the papers in front of him.  Jungkook is pretty sure his mind short circuits at the name.  He also has a thousand questions.  Mostly,

            “How do you know about him?”

            “It’s my job to know about my employees, especially about their problems.  You protect me, I protect you.”

            “But,” Jungkook stutters, staring at his boss.  He never thought he was one to sweat under pressure, but apparently he is.  He’s not sure what to ask next, either.  His boss runs a television station or an entertainment business or something.  What does “take care of” mean?  And how did he find out about him?  Because he didn’t actually answer that question.

            “Kookie,” Seokjin says softly, some tone of concern in his voice that jars Jungkook a little, whether due to the fact that he’s never heard it before or due to the pure, obvious care deep within it.  “The man is sexually harassing you.  He needs to be dealt with and kept far away from any other students.”

            “Yeah, but,” Jungkook starts, but he stumbles when he sees his boss’ eyebrows raise.

            “But?”

            “But,” Jungkook says.

            “But nothing.  I’ve seen the e-mails,” Seokjin says, holding up a hand before Jungkook can protest.  “And before you say it’s in invasion of privacy, which it is, like I said, it’s my business to know about my employees.  You know I ran a background check on you.  I also did a little extra digging.  I wanted to be able to trust you.”

            “Yeah, but,” Jungkook says again, somehow unable to finish another thought.

            “Does this admission make you trust me less?” Seokjin suggest, but Jungkook can’t quite bring himself to nod.  He’s more confused than anything else.  He knows he should probably be angry, but deep down there’s something in him that is so relieved that he’s afraid to give it voice.  “I wouldn’t blame you if it did.  I went behind your back, in a way.  Some might even consider it a form of lying.  I don’t, but you may.  Plus, my motive was good, even if my method seems wrong.”

            “That’s.  That’s,” Jungkook stutters.  Seokjin stands up and waits for him to try to finish a thought while he moves some papers around, but Jungkook has nothing.

            “If you don’t want my help, say the word.  However, you only have a couple of other options.  One is you do nothing, and he continues.  He is in a position of power over you, and he could continue to abuse that power.  Or he could grow more powerful the longer you let him and therefore greedier.  He could become even angrier at you than he has been lately for not responding to him.  He could take your e-mails and twist them in such a way that they make it look like you initiated everything and encouraged him and asked him for special favors in return.  Are you following me so far, Kookie?”

            “Yes sir,” Jungkook mumbles, because he has thought of all of this before.

            “Another option is to tell someone, but, again, Dr. Moore is in a higher standing in society than you.  Unfortunately, he is bound to be believed over you simply due to his long-standing position at the school.  I’m not saying that is right or fair, but it is the way of the world.  Again, he could manipulate the evidence in such a way to pin the blame entirely on you.  Do you understand?”

            “Yes sir,” Jungkook says, trying to sit up straighter and not cower under his boss’ gaze.

            “Your last option is to trust me and let me take care of it.”

            “Yes sir,” Jungkook says almost unconsciously.  His boss only stares at him for a second, waiting for him to say something else, before he nods and moves on with his day.  “I didn’t, you know, sir,” Jungkook finds himself saying, though, rising out of his seat as if to prove his point.  “I didn’t initiate or offer anything.  I just wanted help to make sure I understood the material.  I would never—”

            “I know,” Seokjin says, stopping him.  “I know, Kookie.  I wouldn’t be offering to help you if I thought you had.  I wouldn’t have hired you if I hadn’t been able to tell what a good person you are.”  Jungkook opens his mouth but promptly shuts it, because he really has nothing to say to that.

 

            He almost forgets about it until suddenly the news is everywhere and he almost wants to hire a bodyguard for himself to avoid all of the questions.  He does everything Seokjin and the lawyer tells him to, which is to basically keep quiet.  He finds that easy unless someone says something to him that is clearly an insult or an accusation.  He gets called a “whore” and a “bitch” and a “slut” more than he ever imagined he would, but he only takes it out on Seokjin in the ring.  He stops asking questions and just lets the guy take care of everything.  By the time everything was over, by the time Dr. Moore was let go and Jungkook’s reputation was seemingly intact, his name had been beside Seokjin’s enough in various papers that he couldn’t deny it any longer.  He hadn’t really known who Kim Seokjin was the day he walked into the ring and proceeded to beat up the guy still wearing slacks.  He didn’t really know him after the trial was over, either, but he knew why people straightened up when his boss walked in the room.  He knew why simply saying “Kim Seokjin” at a restaurant or reception area made people scurry faster and try to grant his every desire.  He knew the control and power the name and the man brought.  For others, it clearly brought fear.  To Jungkook, it only brought respect and gratitude.  So for the past two years, the name Kim Seokjin has meant everything to Jungkook.

 

            It still does, he knows, which is why he slowly climbs back into bed and leans against the headboard, trying to keep a safe distance from the girl and his boss.  But Y/N, even though she is still half wrapped around Seokjin, starts searching for him, slapping his leg a few times before finding his hand.  She sighs a little as he squeezes her fingers and he watches the back of her head lean against Seokjin for a moment.

            “Seok, Kookie,” the girl says, clinging to Jungkook’s boss even as Seokjin’s eyes look over her head at the boy.  “I need to—I need to tell you.  I need to tell you what happened.”

            Part of Jungkook wonders, after everything he’s seen and done in the past two years, if he even wants to know what the girl is about to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the scenes I had in mind when I first started this story–Y/N freaking out when Seokjin had a gun and seeking comfort in Jungkook but then needing Seokjin there, too, which leads to both men being a little confused but wanting to give her what she wants. Aw.
> 
> This week I read something on Tuesday about manipulation, fear, and threat as ways we try to control people, and I went “OMG, Seokjin, Jungkook, and Y/N in my story!” So I really started to think about the three of them and their relationships with each other. In various and different ways, they all do not have the best relationships with each other. Seokjin, as maybe you get now, brought Jungkook in with a bit of all three of these. He perhaps manipulated him by not telling him everything about who he is and what the job would entail. He perhaps used fear and threat to basically say “Hey, you have options, and yet, if you don’t let me help, you’ll be in more trouble.” I have hinted at this before, and I tried to more in this chapter, but Seokjin wants Jungkook to move away from obeying and respecting him purely because he’s done this thing for him. He wants him to respect and want to obey him like his friends do, Namjoon, Yoongi, etc. Anyway, I also think the idea of codependency is a big deal, because Jungkook is, in a way, way too reliant on Seokjin, and Y/N is, in another way, way too reliant on both of them right now. And in order to have happy, healthy relationships, we have to move past that. So. That’s the plan. Let’s see what happens! Excuse my rambles.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	12. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t proof read because I am running out of time today but wanted to get this posted, oops.
> 
> I wrote TWENTY-ONE pages today, I’m impressed.
> 
> Note: Y/N tells about when Nestor forced her to perform a sexual act. It is not descriptive and is like, one sentence, but please be careful. If you want to skip it, stop when you see the sentence “You can’t recall,” and pick back up when you see the next paragraph’s dialogue, “Okay, that’s enough, little one.” Take care of yourselves!
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, abuse of power, threats, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

             Grad school had never really been on your radar until your junior year when your mentoring professor kept insisting that you would do well, that they could use people like you in their program, that you were meant to be a grad student.  Everything that that insinuated terrified you.  He was putting a lot of pressure on you without realizing it; the expectation to simply do well and prove him right was a little overwhelming.  It didn’t help when everyone you mentioned it to agreed with you.  Grad school started to sound like where you belonged, and the more you thought about it, the more the pressure from others started to melt away.  It sounded exciting and challenging, and you were genuinely interested in learning more.  So the process of applying seemed natural.  You felt a little guilty at applying to other schools, but your professors and boss still encouraged you, insisting that you would do well.  Their votes of confidence encouraged you to look into schools outside of your state, then, and you were a little surprised but relieved when so many of them accepted you.

            The only problem that you kept trying to push aside was Brycen.  Keeping your applications from him was the first time you had ever kept anything personal from him, but you were afraid he would get upset.  By senior year, he knew he was going to stay and finish with the school’s program.  You had finally talked about it enough for him to know you wanted to continue, too.  You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him you wouldn’t be doing it there.  The more time past, the worst you felt about it.  Brycen had been nothing but good to you, and you sincerely loved him, so picking education over him felt selfish.  You were about to become the ex-girlfriend who he would tell everyone broke up with him even though you were both completely happy and he had never done anything wrong.  You were about to become the bad guy.  So you tired to tell him one night, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.  He was used to your random bouts of silence after almost two years together, so he waited patiently.  The longer he waited, the more upset you grew, though.  You needed to tell him, so while it felt like a cheap, pathetic move, you showed him the letter of acceptance from the school you were going to accept a position at.  And Brycen knew what that meant.  You let him get upset, you let him fight with you, because you really felt like you deserved it.  He insisted you could make it work, but you never wanted to get in his way of his dream, and now you felt you had one of your own.  Going at it alone, going down two separate paths, would be difficult, but you believed ultimately better for the both of you.  Brycen didn’t see it that way, but he wasn’t going to stop you from going.  In the end, he wanted to support you, even if he didn’t want to break up with you.  Love is funny like that.

            So, two months ago you arrived at the airport, ready to face a new town, new school, new apartment.  Taking care of everything before hand had been a hassle, and you were stressed and flustered when you arrived, desperate to make sure everything was going to go according to plan.  You had brought two full suitcases with you and decided to buy everything else you might need once you arrived, so once you got your bags from baggage claim you maneuvered to the exit, waiting for your Uber to pick you up.  Checking your phone was habit but also necessary, and you smiled at a text from your mom but frowned at an e-mail.  The apartment you had lined up had had a water leak and wasn’t going to be available for at least a week.  A part of you went numb, and the rest of you shut down.  Stressed couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.  You were suddenly in a new town with nowhere to go.  You knew no one.  You at least spoke the language, if you could bring yourself to speak, and you forced yourself not to cry but take a few shaky breaths and look up a motel close to the school you could have the driver take you to.  You just needed to put things down and figure out what to do.  Everything would be fine.

            When your uber arrived, you were saved from panicking on the busy sidewalk.  You were grateful when the driver stepped out with a wave and helped put your bags and backpack in the back of the trunk.  He even opened the door for you to get in, which relieved you.  The car smelled nice and was clean, which was always a good sign, so you buckled up immediately and started to tell the driver where you needed to go when you noticed a man sitting in the seat on the other side of the car.  He was staring out the window and drumming his fingers on his knee, and you tried not to sound rude when you said,

            “Um, sorry, I didn’t ask for a shared ride.”

            “Oh, I hope you don’t mind.  He’s headed the same way,” the driver said, already pulling away from the curb.  You took a deep breath through your nose, trying not to overreact.

            “But I didn’t tell you where I was going yet,” you said carefully.

            “There’s only one way out of the airport, so we’re all going to the same way,” the driver explained, which sounded wrong but slightly right at the same time.  “Where are you headed after I get on the highway?”  You told him the name of the hotel you had found, trying not to eye your fellow passenger rudely.  “Can do,” the driver said, and you tried to sit back and take in the city.  You left your map app open, and after the guy seemed to take two wrong turns, you had to save something.

            “Sorry, but,” you started, but the guy sitting next to you flung away from the window, reaching out to grab your phone from you.

            “Fucking hell, shut up and let the guy drive,” the man spat, and you blinked a few times, completely stunned at the sudden outburst.  The man even turned back to the window as if nothing had happened, but he was clutching your phone in his hand and began tapping it on his knee instead of his fingers.

            “Excuse me,” you said, trying not to sound as perturbed and exhausted as you felt, “please give me my phone back.”

            “What, this?” the man said, holding up your phone until you nodded.  He almost looked like he was going to hand it back to you, so you started to reach for it, but instead he brought it down hard once on the console by the driver, a loud crack that only confirmed your worst nightmare about your poor phone screen.  Your mouth opened in shock, and then the guy did it again, over and over, each swing harder than the last until he threw it back at you, completely useless.

            “Let me out of the car,” you barely whispered.  “Let me out!”

            “Not yet,” the guy next to you said.  The driver didn’t even respond.  It was that moment, when you first realized what was actually happening, that you were only angry at yourself for being so stupid.  You had always been careful before.  You thought you had done everything right.  You had nothing to blame but yourself.  Your tiredness, or being distracted, or something.  But perhaps it couldn’t have been avoided.  Perhaps you had done nothing wrong, and it was going to happen regardless.  Whatever the case, you kept quiet, because you reasoned there was no point in doing otherwise.  Jumping out of a moving car seemed like the only option, and without a phone, you really wouldn’t even know where to begin to go.  You tried to just concentrate on breathing, then, as the car kept going, by this point obviously not to the hotel you had requested.  It stopped, instead, in a dingy parking lot behind a strip of buildings, not exactly an alley but still unsettling enough to make your concern only rise. 

            “Don’t move,” the man next to you said, and when you stopped looking around frantically and concentrated on him, you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or cry or faint or try to disobey and run until he forced you to stop, because he was pointing a gun at you.  A tiny part of your brain told you it was fake, like something Emerson played with, but you squashed that last bit of optimism, of stupidity, quickly, and sat absolutely still.  The driver got out first and came to open your door again, and you looked at him warily until the man with the gun waved you out.  You stepped out carefully, not wanting to alarm them, and waited until the gun man came up to you.  You had played cops and robbers with your little brother enough growing up that you knew what it felt like to have a gun pressing into your back.  But that had always been pretend.  Fake.  And this was anything but.

            “She’s obedient, boss,” the driver said, as if you were going to be anything but with a gun trained on you.

            “Yeah, we’ll see.  Get her bags,” the man said, steering you toward a door.  You went obediently, even if not willing, trying to take in your surroundings as you went.  The building he took you into was dimly lit and smelled unpleasant, something in the air you couldn’t quite place.  Alcohol, for sure, and sweat, though that could have just been the stench of the man behind you.  When a couple of people waved at the pair of you, your heart sunk even more, because this was normal for them, whoever they were.

            The man directed you toward what turned out to be an office and pushed your forcefully into a chair.  The only temporary relief was when you no longer felt the cold barrel pressing through your shirt onto your back.  Still, you couldn’t help but stare at it when he put it down on an impressive messy desk.  You were so distracted you didn’t even hear what he was saying until he yelled at you, causing you to jump a little and look up at him.

            “What’s your name?” he said, but there was no point in asking.  Part of you felt like you were still on the plane.  You had surely fallen asleep and were simply dreaming.  All of your worries were manifesting themselves into this ugly person in front of you.  A stewardess was bound to wake you up at any moment.  There’d be no problem with the apartment.  And your uber driver would smell a little and talk too much, but he’d take you where you asked and you’d leave him a tip for doing so because he hadn’t kidnapped you.  Kidnapped.

            “How old are you?” the man tried, but you still only blinked at him.  There was no point in him asking you anything, even if he didn’t know that.  He wasn’t Brycen, though, so of course there was no way for him to know.  He wasn’t your dad, who didn’t “get” why you sometimes stopped talking but at least didn’t get visibly angry about it anymore, even if you knew he was obviously disappointed. 

            “Y/N,” someone else said, and the racket of the driver bringing in both of your bags startled you out of your reverie.  You missed Emerson fiercely for some reason in that moment, imaging how free he was running around with his friends enjoying summer still.  “She’s twenty-four, apparently,” the man continued, handing something over to the guy at the desk.  Your wallet.

            “Y/N, huh?” the man said, rifling through your stuff.  You let out a breath, suddenly thinking that maybe they just wanted to rob you.  Maybe they would just let you go after.  “What are you in town for?  Looks like not just a quick visit,” the man said, staring at your suitcases.  There was no point in asking.  Your entire life was in those bags, at least that’s how it felt, packing everything up and moving away from home and from everyone you had ever known and loved.  The man cursed and growled, seemingly more animalistic by the second, until the driver left you alone with him.  He forced you back up by wrenching your elbow toward him, and you let him drag you around as he showed you what turned out to be a strip club.  Each step was harder and harder because you knew you were breathing less and less the more he showed you around.  You knew, or highly suspected, what was going to happen to you, and you ran in the only way you could.  You went to the beach, a forest, a mountain, Brycen’s stupidly lumpy bed, Emerson’s tree house, your dining room table, your favorite coffee shot, that one chair in the library that no one ever used but you, you went everywhere, anywhere but where you currently were, and when your knees finally sunk to the ground it was in no way an act of consent.  The guy simply let go of you, and you went to the ground.  You can’t recall what he said, only remember the metal clinking on his belt and a hand pulling back the back of your hair.  You don’t—

 

            “Okay, that’s enough, little one.”

            Jungkook breathes again.  He shudders and clenches his fists, unable to lift his forehead off of the girl’s back.  She had started shaking again a few minutes ago, and Jungkook is grateful Seokjin told her to stop.  They’re a mess of limbs, but he tries not to think about it.  The girl had climbed practically into Seokjin’s lap when she started to tell them what had happened to her, and he had stayed close to her, which means he’s sure his and Seokjin’s legs are on top of each other or touching, though one of his has gone numb, and he tries not to think about it, just wraps his arms around the girl’s waist and keeps his eyes closed.  He breathes deeply, feeling the girl’s back rise and fall against his own chest, and thankfully their rhythm seems to sync up into a slower pace eventually.

            “You don’t have to tell us anymore if you don’t want to,” Seokjin says, his voice calm as always.  He’s stroking the girl’s hair and down her back enough for his hand to hit the top of Jungkook’s head every time he does it, but Jungkook doesn’t really mind.  The girl nods faintly and takes a deep breath, causing Jungkook to finally push himself off of her back in case she feels suffocated, but he keeps his arms tightly around her.  He looks at his boss over the girl’s shoulder only to find Seokjin staring back at him.  Jungkook recognizes the look on his boss’ face, and he’s glad the girl still has her eyes shut, and is even more glad he’s never been the cause of such a look.  A furious Seokjin is a dangerous Seokjin.

            “You did so well,” Seokjin says softly, his tone in complete contrast to the anger on his face, and Jungkook is impressed once again, always, by the man’s control.  The girl shudders a little in both of their grasps and takes another deep breath.

            “I think-I think that’s it,” the girl whispers.  “Even though he forced me, I, I wanted to do well.  I didn’t want to do it.  I didn’t want to do any of it.  But I wanted to please him, them, everyone.  How fucked up is that?” the girl laughs hollowly, and Jungkook clenches his jaw and somehow clings even tighter to her.  “What kind of person am I?  Who does that?”

            “Y/N,” Seokjin says, pushing his jaw against the girl’s head until she looks up at him, “you did nothing wrong.  You tried to keep yourself safe, and no one faults you for that.  It was smart to try not to upset him.  He could have killed you.”

            “He-he said he would,” the girl gasps, staring up at Seokjin and wiggling closer to him.  Jungkook loosens his grip so she can move away from him, watching how her arms cling to his boss.  “He said if I told anyone he’d kill me.  I-I was too afraid.  I should have—I should have told someone.”

            “Y/N, little one,” Seokjin almost sighs, though not in annoyance or frustration at the girl, “Nestor would have.  He would have killed you if he knew.  You did nothing wrong.  It is okay to be scared.  Anyone else would have been.”

            “He asked me.  He asked me what I told you.  What I told Kookie,” the girl says, and Jungkook drops his hands to her thighs, trying not to move.  “He-he was so mad.  He-he was so afraid,” the girl says, and Jungkook can hear the confusion in her voice.

            “Everyone is afraid of something,” Seokjin says.  “Nestor is full of fear.  He just chooses to try to take his fear out on others through violence.  You did not, and would never, right?”

            “Right,” the girl sighs, leaning her head on Seokjin’s chest again and taking a few deep breaths.  Her eyes are open now, and her head is turned in such a way that Jungkook can watch her blink in the dim room.  They’re still wet, still letting an occasional tear fall, and Jungkook feels his hands becoming fists on her legs.  “You would never, either, right Seok?”  The question seems to make Seokjin pause for a moment, his hand pressed flat on Y/N’s back.  The girl must notice his hesitation, because she lifts her head and looks at him expectantly.  Jungkook feels more than hears his boss sigh, and he watches him expectantly, too, wondering what he is going to say.

            “I would never hurt you,” his boss says, and Jungkook and the girl both know that isn’t what she asked, but the girl only says,

            “Your gun scared me.”

            “I know,” Seokjin sighs, brushing hair out Y/N’s face a few times.  “I am sorry, little one.  I would never.  I wasn’t thinking.”

            “Why,” the girl says.  “Why do you have a gun?”  Jungkook waits, and so does the girl, and perhaps Seokjin is waiting, too, because it’s several seconds before he answers.

            “For work.”

            “What do you do?” the girl asks, pulling away from Seokjin a little.  Jungkook almost laughs, because the girl is smarter than he has ever been.  She’s asked, and Jungkook never did, or did too late, and he forgets to breathe again in the silence, wondering what his boss is going to say.

            “Y/N, if you can trust me,” Seokjin finally says, running his fingers through the girl’s hair and over her face, wiping away her stray tears, “I will tell you tomorrow.”  The girl seems to be considering, looking into Seokjin’s eyes as he meets her gaze, and Jungkook almost misses the way her head barely nods.

            “I am sorry,” she says, and Seokjin’s brow immediately furrows inquisitively.  “I should have said—I should have told you why I freaked out.”

            “No,” Seokjin says quickly, shaking his head and kissing the girl’s forehead just as fast, “you did nothing wrong.  And you are telling me now.  Look at how much you just told me.  You’re talking so much, so much,” Seokjin says, giving her another kiss.  Jungkook relaxes his hands finally, feeling the distance growing before he even starts to scoot away from the girl and his boss.  “And I am so, so proud of you.  When did you start talking again so much?”

            “I,” the girl says, “I think it was just time.”  Seokjin nods and kisses her yet again.  Jungkook can see the girl relaxing already, her arms moving from around Seokjin to his legs or her own lap.  “And Kookie helped a lot.”

            “I know he did,” Seokjin says softly, only glancing up at Jungkook for a second before looking back at the girl.  Jungkook feels himself move further away on the bed.  “I am so happy to hear you talk, little one.  You’ve done so well.”

            “I should have done more,” the girl says, even while Seokjin shakes his head.  “There are other girls there.  I should have—”

            “Stop.  You did nothing wrong,” Seokjin insists, holding the girl’s face in his hands and looking at her.  She seems to stop fidgeting for a moment before she nods again, and Jungkook isn’t even touching her anymore.  He feels so far away that he almost misses when she whispers,

            “Why did you stop paying for me?”

            “I had my suspicions,” Seokjin says, letting go of the girl’s face and letting her pick up his hands to play with.  “Nestor seemed way too attached to you when I suggested bringing you home.  If you were just some girl he had hired, he should have known he could just hire someone else.  But his insistence to get you back and keep you so close made me wonder.  He didn’t even accept you wanting to quit, either, which made me wonder even more.  I’ve been trying to figure out for a while what was going on.  Even talked to a few of the other girls.  But no one would tell me.  You’ve been really brave, Y/N,” Seokjin says, but the girl only shakes her head, looking at their hands in his and her laps. 

           “He’s not going to hurt you, you know?  You don’t have to worry about him anymore.  I’ll make sure the other girls are safe, too.  I’m going to take care of him.”  Jungkook knows what Seokjin means, and while part of him is upset, is terrified, because he knows he’ll be required to help, and it’s always been his least favorite part of his job, a part of him is relieved.  Because Seokjin will be true to his word.  Nestor will soon be dead, if everything goes smoothly, and Y/N will never have to worry about him again.  The phrase, unlike how it confused Jungkook when he first heard it so many years ago, isn’t lost on Y/N.  She looks back up at Seokjin and studies him for a moment, looking for something, probably.

            “Who are you?” she finally says, curious more than accusatory.  “Nestor is afraid of you.  Your name—everyone at the club knew you.  Why is Nestor so afraid of you?”

            “Can you wait, little one?  Until tomorrow?  My job—my position—my name—Nestor’s fear of me.  They’re all connected, and I promise to explain.  I want to.  It will just take time.  And I’d prefer if Namjoon and the others were here.  And this day was supposed to be so easy.  We were supposed to relax and have a nice lunch and you were supposed to crawl into my lap and let me read and we were supposed to go to bed and sleep because I feel like I haven't slept in weeks, and I screwed it all up—” the girl puts her hand over Seokjin’s mouth, and Jungkook’s eyes go wide, because his boss had sounded panicked, afraid, so apologetic, so unlike anything he’s ever sounded before in front of Jungkook that the boy isn’t sure what to make of it.  He’s glad that the girl stops his boss, because the fear in Seokjin’s voice only makes Jungkook worry more.

            “Sorry,” the girl whispers.  “Though I am in your lap.  I’m glad you’re back.”

            “Me too,” Seokjin whispers back, moving her hand away from his mouth before kissing her palm.  “Missed you, little one.”  Jungkook gets off of the bed then, aware of enough to know when to take his leave, and he tries not to feel hurt when the girl seems to notice him for the first time in what has felt like hours.  She opens her mouth but closes it again, and Jungkook sees his boss look at him before glancing back at the girl.  “Y/N, Kookie and I have to go take care of this now, if that’s alright.  It really can’t wait.  I don’t want you to have to worry anymore.  We’ll be back as soon as possible.  You need to just take it easy, yeah?  And remember you’re safe.  You’re safe here.”  The girl hugs Seokjin again in response, and Jungkook watches as his boss runs a hand up and down her back, trying to sooth her.  He steps closer to the door, and his movement makes the girl look back up at him.  Her eyes narrow a little, and he turns to leave, not sure how to look at her right now.  He hears Seokjin moving off of the bed even as he walks down the hallway, and soon his boss joins him in the kitchen, putting his holster back on and grabbing his coat while simultaneously texting Namjoon.  Jungkook tries not to think about Y/N sitting on the bed alone in the dark as he follows his boss outside.

            He tries.

 

            “I thought you were trying to stop, sir,” Jungkook says the moment he’s in the car.

            “I am.  I will.  This is the last time,” his boss says, not looking up from his phone.

            “You sound like a drug addict, you know.”

            “Yeah,” Seokjin says softly.  “Yeah, I suppose I am in a way.”

            “Well, who are we picking up first?” Jungkook says, already pulling into the street.

            “Just Yoongi.  I-Namjoon and Hoseok need rest.”

            “Are you sure—” Jungkook starts, but he stops himself, not wanting to question Seokjin’s decision, even though he is not sure three of them will be enough.

            “Trust me, Kookie,” Seokjin says, staring out the window.  Jungkook does, but he doesn’t need to say anything.

 

            The bed grows cold quickly.  You have forgotten how empty Seokjin’s apartment feels without him there.  You pad out of the room a few minutes after the boys leave, hearing your own footsteps echoing through the large rooms.  Seokjin’s room looks how you left it.  The bed hasn’t been slept in in weeks.  There’s a thin layer of dust on the bed stand, and in the living room you find a similar layer on the table, and you realize you’ve never seen a maid or cleaning person in the place, meaning Seokjin must like to clean everything himself.  Hoping that he doesn’t get annoyed, you make yourself at home by looking for things to sweep and dust with.  The remedial tasks keep you busy and distracted long enough to not think about how Seokjin and Jungkook are talking to Nestor.  You know they’re not just talking to him.  You don’t know exactly what they’re doing.  You try to just trust that Seokjin will tell you tomorrow and concentrate on keeping yourself busy.  But time moves too slowly, and your stomach reminds you in the middle of the afternoon that you haven’t had lunch.  You think once again how Seokjin’s place is too big for just him, how lonely it must feel when he is here alone, how it is much too quiet, and make your way down the elevator.  Seungkwan and Wonwoo both turn toward the doors the moment they ding, and the former gives you a smile as always as you wave politely to them.

            “Hi,” you say awkwardly, watching a little embarrassedly as both of their eyebrows started to rise, “I was wondering if one of you could walk me somewhere to eat?”

            “Sure,” Wonwoo says, surprisingly you and Seungkwan.  His partner looks at him suspiciously before Wonwoo rolls his eyes and waves you away from the elevator.  “Oh, please, we both know if something actually happened she has a better chance of surviving with me.  You’re too soft, Seungie.”  The name and fact that he’s volunteered seems to have rattled Seungkwan so much he just stands there, his mouth a little agape, as you press your lips together and walk over to Wonwoo.  He probably rolls his eyes again at the way you look down at your feet as you follow him, but you don’t really mind.  He thankfully doesn’t comment on how much you’re talking or about anything else, just waves his hand in front of him once you’re on the sidewalk for you to lead the way.  You’re not exactly sure what you want, and will enjoy the walk, so you simply turn to the right and take your time, trying not to think of what Seokjin and Jungkook are doing.  It takes a while to get to a sandwich place and then a noodle place and then a coffee shop, and it’s after you pass a pizza place that Wonwoo sighs behind you, hustling to walk beside you.  He starts pointing in all directions, his annoyance evidence in his voice.

            “Look, where are you going?  What do you want to eat?  Are you actually hungry?”

            “Yes,” you say simply, continuing to walk.

            “Because there’s a place back there that makes amazing ramen, if you want that,” he says, pointing behind you as he keeps up.  You keep walking.  “Look, uh, lady,” he says, and you glare at him, because apparently he’s forgotten your name if he ever bothered to learn it in the first place.  “Seungkwan, he, uh, talks a lot, and sometimes he talks about everything but what he actually wants to talk about.  It is, by far, the most annoying thing I have ever experienced in another human being.  Are you, like, is that what you’re doing right now?  Trying to avoid something by looking for some place to eat despite having passed, like, ten acceptable options you could have stopped at?”  You stop at that and look at the kid.  He’s surly and immature and obviously has a chip on your shoulder, but he’s just said more words to you than you’ve ever heard, and he just figured you out that easily.

            “Worried about Seok,” you say, looking back down the sidewalk from where you had come.  “And Kookie.”

            “Ah,” the boy says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  “They, uh, I mean.  Well.”

            “They went to take care of Nestor,” you say, looking at a sign for a laundry mat flash OPEN.

            “Oh, yeah, I know,” the boy says, grumbling and kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk petulantly.  “He wouldn’t let me go.”

            “Why not?”  The boy shrugs.

            “Says I’m not trustworthy.”

            “Why’s that?”

            “Look,” Wonwoo says, sighing and looking around, “I’m hungry, too.  Do you want to eat or not?”

            “Yeah,” you say, watching him closely, but he avoids eye contact and indicates with his head for you to follow him.

            He leads you back to the noodle place and, much to your surprise, hugs the lady who greets them at the door and speaks in a rush with a smile on his face in another language.  The lady is just as small as you and smiles widely at you, waving you both toward a booth that you slink into feeling deeply lost, but Wonwoo races off an order and leans back in the booth when the lady scurries away.  She had written nothing down, just nodded and smiled the whole time.

            “You come here a lot,” you say, staring at the kid sitting across from you.  He shrugs.

            “Family owns the place.”

            “Fam—was that your mom?” you say, pointing before remembering that’s rude toward where the lady had disappeared.

            “Oh, no.  Aunt.  Mom’s dead.”

            “Oh,” you say, dropping your hands into your lap and sucking in a breath awkwardly.  “Sorry.”

            “You didn’t kill her,” Wonwoo shrugs again, looking around the restaurant.  You don’t know what to say to that, since he’s obviously right, but you are afraid of asking how she died exactly.  “Seokjin will be fine, as will Kookie,” Wonwoo says after a moment, Jungkook’s nickname coming out a little harsh on his tongue.

            “I know.”

            “Then don’t worry.”

            “That,” you say, snorting.  “It doesn’t work like that.”  Wonwoo shrugs again, tapping the chopsticks in front of him on the table.  “What’s with you, anyway?  Why doesn’t he trust you?”

            “It’s not that he doesn’t.  Not exactly.  But I messed up a while ago, so apparently I can’t be trusted now.  I mean, it was just a stupid mistake, so I don’t know why he doesn’t let it go,” Wonwoo scoffs.

            “What did you do?”

            “I told Kookie that he’s nothing more than Seokjin’s attack dog, and he didn’t take too kindly to that.”  The boy is tapping his foot under the table and not looking at you, and you lean back in the booth far enough to kick his leg, making him look up at you with a glare.

            “And?”

            “And?” Wonwoo says.  You raise your eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes again.  “And I may have said that the family used to value loyalty.  Seokjin’s been changing too many things too quickly and bringing in Kookie so quickly was foolish.”

            “So you’re jealous,” you blink, and Wonwoo glares back at you before tsking.

            “No, it’s just that there’s a way to do these things, and years of service used to matter.  Now it’s,” he says, waving his hand at nothing, “show up and impress the guy and suddenly you’re in, here’s all the family secrets, I’ll write you into my will, meet my brother, yadda yadda.  I just expressed my disappointment, and Kookie, the trained dog that he is, felt the need to defend Seokjin’s honor or some knight shit.”

            “Wha—” you start, but the tiny lady is returning, and Wonwoo gets up to help her with an incredibly crowded tray, kissing the top of her head before assuring her they had everything they needed before she hurried to another table.  “So you’ve worked for Seokjin longer than Kookie?” you ask slowly as Wonwoo unloads the tray.  The boy scoffs again.

            “Yes.  I have four years on the guy, though you could say technically I’ve always worked for him or been destined to.  My father worked for his.  But, like I said, that kind of loyalty used to mean things.  Seokjin doesn’t seem to care about that these days, if he ever did.”

            “What does he do?” you find yourself saying before you could stop yourself, a natural curiosity and desire to keep the conversation going overtaking you.  Wonwoo stops and looks at you, his hand hovering over the table holding a bowl of rice.  He blinks twice and then slowly lowers the bowl until it’s safely on the table.  And then he laughs.

            “Oh.  Oh, shit,” he says, trying to control himself.  “You have, oh my god, this is too good.  You don’t even know.  Of all the stupid things, oh my god, this is priceless.  Wow, I can’t believe—”

            “Okay,” you say, desperate to get him to stop.  “Never mind.”

            “No, no,” he says, his laughter stopping as you start to eat.  “I just thought, surely, if you were staying with him, I mean, you were with Kookie for weeks!  I just—”

            “I said never mind,” you plead.  “Don’t tell me.  He said he would tell me tomorrow.”

            “Oh,” Wonwoo says, pausing for a second.  You can almost hear his thoughts, so you look up and glare at him.

            “If you’re interested in showing your loyalty, maybe you should listen to me and not tell me.”

            “Oh,” Wonwoo says again before smirking, “sweetie, you’re cute.  But leave the threats to the professionals.  I won’t tell you, but only because your reaction will be more genuine tomorrow.  I wish I could be there to see it.”

            “I’ll make sure you are,” you say through a mouthful of a strip of beef that is a little too spicy.

            “What?” Wonwoo says, his chopsticks frozen in midair.  You shrug before reaching for a different piece of meat.

            “I’ll ask Seok to let you come.  I’m sure he’ll say yes.  Since, you know, I’ve known him so long and he trusts me so much.”  It’s a low blow, and you laugh at the boy’s reaction, kicking him gently under the table again.  “I’ll be sure to let him know you took good care of me today, too.”

            “Sure,” Wonwoo mumbles, finally getting to stuffing his face.  “Was j’st hungr’.”

            “Right,” you nod, joining him in chowing down.

            “Wha’ are you ‘oing with all that?” Wonwoo says, pointing to a pile you’re collecting on one of your plates.

            “Saving it for Seungkwan,” you say, only looking up to see the boy staring at you when he doesn’t tease or make a joke about the boy’s size or something.  He shakes his head when he catches your gaze and goes back to eating.

            Seeing the boy smile when you both reach for the last piece of meat and having to kick him under the table because he is not about to let you have it and seeing him hug his Aunt when she comes back is odd enough behavior.  Him carrying the box of food for his partner he can’t seem to stand and handing it to him without a comment or frown at Seungkwan’s confused, wide eyes is almost overkill, but Wonwoo is soon back to leaning against the wall and scowling, and you can’t help but laugh as you sit with Seungkwan while he eats, spending another hour making fun of his partner and getting to know the boy.  Time moves quickly, thankfully, and even though you text Seokjin for the code back up to the penthouse after a while, not really expecting him to answer, he responds almost immediately, and you say goodbye to the odd pair, receiving a smile as always from Seungkwan and a minor eyeroll from Wonwoo.  You clutch your phone in your hands on the way back up, punching the code and opening the door just when another text comes in.

 

**Seok (4:16PM)**

All safe

Be home soon

 

            You feel so relieved and yet anxious that you can’t sit still the rest of the day, waiting for Seokjin and Jungkook to get back.  Only when there were back home would you know they were actually safe.  Only once they were with you again would you feel truly safe.

 

            Veins, Jungkook found out when he was twelve, can spurt like fountains.  Like the water from a hose when you place your thumb in such a way that it sprays violently.  Like the juices bubbling out of a new kimchi bottle that could only be stopped by closing the lid again quickly.  His leg didn’t have a lid, though.  There was no faucet to turn off.  He just sat there, bleeding, staring at the huge gash in his pants, his leg already a dark maroon.  It looked so foreign he disassociated and was unable to comprehend he was even looking at his own leg.  It looked nothing like the movies.  Nothing like the games he played.  He had seen a lot of blood in his short life, but it had never been real.  Never been his.  Never been this much.

            The doctors said if his brother hadn’t been there and called 911 so quickly, he could have easily bled out.  And if the cut had been but an inch higher, he could have easily bled out even on the way to the hospital.  He didn’t really like to skateboard after that; even though his brother insisted it was just an accident, his father insisted he should have known better to try to do tricks in a dirty alley.  Still, some bent part of a dumpster sticking out was just random, and Jungkook hadn't run into it on purpose.  He remembers listening to the doctor at the hospital, looking up at him at one point and asking why he was shaking so much even though he was sweating.

            “That’s the shock.  Your body is pumping adrenaline through your system to keep you alert,” the doctor explained.  “It will wear off in a moment, and you might shake more.  You might cry, too.  It’s okay to, you know?  You’re in a lot of pain.”  Jungkook had only nodded.  He hadn’t cried, because he really didn’t process the cut in his leg.  He traces the scar still sometimes to remind himself that he has no control over some things.  That there are things done to him that he can’t help.  That he sometimes has to do things he doesn’t want to. 

           He can’t feel it directly through his jeans as he drives back to Seokjin’s place, but he knows it's there, the bumps at least decipherable.  He concentrates on driving and doesn’t look at Seokjin sitting in the back with Yoongi.  He finds that looking at people after helping Seokjin “take care of” someone takes him hours or even days.  The others never seem as affected, but it’s always been hard to tell with Yoongi.  He’s already quieter, so he doesn’t say much when Jungkook drops him off.  Jungkook doesn’t mind, and he doesn’t mind that the ride is silent on the way back.  He knows Seokjin was tired hours ago, and the day has not been easy or happy or anything like he expected.  By the time he’s parking the car, he can feel himself nodding off, and he wants nothing more than to go home and shower and do anything but think about the past couple of hours.  But as soon as he opens the door Seokjin says,

            “Come on, she’s waiting for us,” and Jungkook turns off the car.  He’s glad someone else is on watch beside Wonwoo tonight, not wanting to deal with the punk, and it’s only when he’s standing so close to Seokjin in the elevator that he realizes how much they both smell.  There’s blood on his shoes.

            “Seokjin,” he gasps, staring up at his boss.  He looks incredibly tired.  “We can’t—”

            “I know,” Seokjin sighs.  “Hopefully she’s in bed.  Just get changed as quickly as you can.  Just,” Seokjin says as he opens the door.  He doesn’t finish his thought as he kicks off his shoes and peels off his jacket.  Jungkook follows him even though he has no jacket to take off, only looks at his shoes one more time before realizing he has nothing to change into.

            “Seokjin, I,” he says, and his boss nods, waving him toward his room.

            “I know, I’ll get you some.”  His boss pinches his nose before walking through the kitchen, and Jungkook realizes he hasn’t seen his boss eat all day, but he doesn’t say anything.  Mainly because he hears something down the hall, and it’s a testament to what they were just doing that they both still and look at each other as if there was actually someone dangerous in the apartment.  The noise only gets louder, and Jungkook is stupidstupidstupid, because Y/N peeks around the corner crying noticeably, and he takes a step toward her before stopping, staring down at what might be blood on his pants.

            “S-Seok,” the girl whimpers, and Seokjin is two her in two strides, catching her in his arms.

            “I’m sorry, little one, I’m here.”

            “I thought, I thought,” she says, the same panic in her voice from that morning, the same sound that made Jungkook want to punch someone and hold her all at once.  “I was so worried.”

            “I’m sorry,” Seokjin says again, holding her close.  “We’re safe.  You’re safe.”

            “K-Kookie,” the girl sobs, and Jungkook flinches but looks up to see a small hand reaching from behind Seokjin toward him.  He can’t seem to move, though, and the girl cries so loud Jungkook wants to see if his chest has started to bleed yet.

            “Kookie, come hold her,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook rushes to obey, watching as Seokjin unwraps the girl from him and practically hands her to Jungkook.  She folds into him immediately, her hands grabbing the front of his shirt, and it feels instinctual to wrap his arms around her as Seokjin backs away.  “I’m just going to shower,” his boss explains, wiping what he can of Y/N’s face; what he can’t reach she wipes herself on Jungkook’s shirt.  “I’ll be back soon, okay?  You’re safe, little one.”  He places a quick kiss to the girl’s forehead, and Jungkook can feel her sigh against him, but she starts to cry as soon as Seokjin leaves.  Jungkook only stands there for a moment, half leaning on the wall as he tries to figure out what to do.

            “Kookie,” the girl mumbles finally, and Jungkook snaps back to attention, lifting her easily and letting her throw her legs around his waist to keep herself up.

            “Yeah,” he says for no reason, if only to say something, feeling the girl’s wet cheek press against his.  He stumbles at least twice before he makes it to the bed where he squats down and deposits the girl, but she is still clinging to his shirt.  He takes her hand away carefully and holds onto it as he climbs onto the bed beside her, lying down on his side and watching her do the same.  Her tears seem to have stopped for the moment, though she is still taking deep, erratic breaths, and she doesn’t let up on Jungkook’s hand as she lies down facing him.  Her other hand pulls on his shirt again so hard he’s surprise it hasn’t ripped, but he gets the message and scoots closer to her until it’s hard to focus on her eyes she’s so close.

            “Kookie,” she says after a moment, her breathing evening out even as Jungkook can feel his get slower.  The bed, or Y/N’s presence, is so incredibly warm and soft and safe he just wants to sleep, but he hums in response to make sure she knows he’s paying attention.  “You smell,” she says seriously before smiling at him.

            “Sorry,” he says, unable to smile back.

            “Kookie,” she whispers, letting go of his hand to push his bangs out of his eyes.  “Kookie, are you okay?”

            “Yeah,” he only half lies.  “I’m tired.  Glad you’re safe.”

            “You keep me safe,” she says, scratching the back of his neck with such a slight pressure he feels his eyes roll back a little but just enough that he has to shake his head to focus.

            “That’s all Seokjin,” he mumbles, but the girl shakes her head, too, bumping her knee against one of his.

            “No.  You keep me safe.  I’m so glad you’re safe,” she says, and Jungkook hates how her voice breaks a little.  He hates it so much he curses under his breath and grabs the back of her neck, perhaps a little too hard in his eagerness, if her eyes widening is anything to go on, as he rolls over and pushes her as he goes until she’s on her back.  He can’t help but smile at the way her hand tightens on his neck, too.

            “Safe,” he says, even though a part of him may never actually feel so, as he bends down to kiss her, perhaps a little too hard and eagerly if the way she goes still at first is any indication, but when she seems to sigh against his mouth he relaxes and kisses the corner of her mouth gently until she pulls at the back of his neck and leans up, not letting him miss accidentally or intentionally again.  Once she’s gotten what she wants she leans back into the pillow again, though, smiling up at him, and he can’t help but kiss her cheek.

            “You didn’t even need a flow chart,” the girl says, smiling widely.  Jungkook kisses her again because he can, because he wants her smile, because she tastes like oranges, because she is safe.  “Kookie,” she says when he pulls away again, her flushed cheeks making his own burn a little.  “You smell.”

            “Alright,” he says, laughing and sitting up.  He grabs his hand, though, and keeps him from getting up completely.

            “Wait, please?  For Seok.”

            “Okay,” he says, opting to sit on the edge of the bed and let her play with his hands, pulling up his arm and letting it fall onto the bed a few times as if he was a puppet who had lost its string.  He can’t help but watch the way her eyes are still shining a little from her tears and the way her lips are still a little red from kissing him, and he can’t help but lean over her again and kiss her cheek and then her other one, letting her laugh as he tries to get rid of any evidence of tears ever existing on her face.  She stops laughing as he continues, and he feels one of her hands pulling on his shirt again, bringing him so close he almost loses his balance, but someone clears his throat in the doorway, and Jungkook springs back, forcing Y/N to let go of him as he stands up and ducks his head, rushing out of the room and past Seokjin without a word.

 

            “What did you do to him, little one?” Seokjin laughs the moment Jungkook slams the bathroom door behind him.  You are sitting up in bed, unsure how to answer, and the look on your face only makes Seokjin laugh again as he makes his way toward you.  You can’t help but frown even as he pulls the rumpled covers all the way off the bed to bring back down over you.  As soon as your head peaks out from them again, Seokjin frowns back at you as he straightens up.  “What’s wrong?”

            “I don’t know,” you say honestly.  “We just kissed, and then he ran out like that.”

            “Ah,” Seokjin says, smiling again.  “I think he’s embarrassed.”

            “What?  Why?” you tsk.

            “Probably because I ‘caught’ him,” Seokjin says, using air quotes around the word that only make you frown more.

            “But he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

            “I know, little one, but Kookie holds himself to a very high standard that he doesn’t expect of anyone else.  But you’ll have to talk to him about that another time, okay?  You need to go to bed.”  He runs his fingers through your hair and kisses the top of your head even as he says goodnight, but you’re still frowning at him when he stands back up.  “Why are you still frowning?”

            “Aren’t you going to stay?”

            “Would you like me to?” Seokjin says, tilting his head at you.

            “I thought we were supposed to have an easy day today.  I’d crawl in your lap and listen to you read and everything would be fine,” you sigh, trying not to cry again.

            “And the world had other plans,” Seokjin says softly, stroking your hair again.  You watch him as he touches you, his eyes looking at yours as he does.  You had been too distracted, too scared, too busy all day to notice how tired he looks, and you pat the bed beside you quickly, smiling when he smiles and climbs in next to you.  He scoots to the headboard and leans back on it, opening his arms wide enough for you to crawl into, which you eagerly do.  “I think I’m too tired to read,” Seokjin mutters as soon as you’re situated, your back pressed against his chest with his arms wrapped around you.

            “It’s okay,” you say.  His skin is still a little wet and yet smooth from his shower, and you let yourself feel up and down his arms, smiling at the little hums he starts to let out.

            “Little one,” he mumbles after a few minutes, “I’ll fall asleep.”

            “That’s okay,” you say, turning around just enough to see his eyes are already closed.  “You’re safe now.  I’m safe.”

            “Safe,” he mumbles, a small smile on his lips.

           

            He stands in the doorway for too long, holding the tray tightly in his two hands, watching the two of them sleep.  Or, he thinks they are asleep.  Seokjin’s mouth is slightly open, and the girl seems to be breathing deeply.  She’s facing away from him, though, her face pressed into Seokjin’s chest, so he can’t be sure.  He’s not sure what to do.  What he’s doing.  What he should do.  But Seokjin needs to eat, and he has always found the need to eat after doing business with Seokjin, some part of him needing to remind him that he is a human and one that is still alive.

            “Boss,” he whispers.  Neither of them move on the bed.  “Boss?” he says louder, and the girl stirs but doesn’t turn around.  “Boss,” he repeats, stepping into the room and heading for the bed.  “Boss, you need to eat.”  Seokjin grunts and pries his eyes open even as the girl twists in his lap, blinking up at Jungkook before smiling.

            “Kookie,” Seokjin says.  “You’re a saint.”

            “Yeah,” Jungkook scoffs, setting the tray down on the bed and scooting it toward the girl.  She looks at it before looking at him, climbing out of Seokjin’s lap even as she does so.

            “You’re probably hungry too,” she says simply, patting the bed beside her.  He doesn’t deny it, because she is right, but to agree means it would be rude to not join them, and Seokjin is right there, one of his hands still flopped loosely over the girl’s thigh.  Jungkook takes too long to decide.

            “Get over here, Kookie,” Seokjin says, lifting his head wearily up to reach for the tray.  He shuffles toward the bed despite the frown Y/N is giving him, and he sits on the other side of the tray, watching as Seokjin’s hand runs up and down the girl’s back.  “Next time, just try telling him what to do instead of giving him a suggestion, Y/N.”

            “It’s his choice,” the girl shrugs, but she looks like she’s thinking about it.  Jungkook eats a piece of toast quietly, trying not to look up at the two of them, especially because the girl isn’t eating anything at all, just watching him.  Seokjin probably is, too, though he is eating fast and a lot.  Jungkook knew he was right in assuming he hadn’t eaten since he arrived in the morning, and he wonders how he lasted so long.  They eat in silence, and the tray is empty before Jungkook realizes.  He sees Y/N’s hands grip its edges as she sits up on her knees.

            “I’m going to take this to the kitchen.  You two should brush your teeth.  Then come back here so we can all sleep together.”

            “If that’s what you want, little one,” Seokjin says through a yawn as the girl gets out of the bed.  She stands at the edge of it looking at them for a moment, still with a frown on her face.

            “It is,” she says simply.  “But I’m not going to force anyone to.  It is your decision.”  Jungkook gets out of the bed before she can leave the room, heading to brush his teeth.  He spends a little longer than he usually does doing so, because instead of counting to thirty or singing “Happy Birthday,” he’s trying to decide what he wants to do.

            In the end, he doesn’t need a flowchart.  She makes it easy on him.  Seokjin’s already there, curled around her back, probably already asleep again since he doesn’t comment on Jungkook taking forever or tease him for being so indecisive.  He doesn’t even push him away when Jungkook slides under the covers next to Y/N and gets close enough their knees bump.  The girl finally smiles at him, and he sighs, deeply relieved as he closes his eyes.

            He’s always gone home alone after helping Seokjin with business, some part of him afraid of being around other humans after purposefully hurting one.  But now, he realizes as Y/N holds his hand as he drifts off to sleep, that he’s been missing this the whole time without knowing it.  He’s been missing feeling safe.

            He only hopes the girl feels the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if this topic triggers anyone, but sex trafficing is still very much a horrible thing happening in the world. It is a form of slavery, and it is absolutely awful. I can’t even express how terrible it is. 
> 
> Remedial is not the word I meant, but I could NOT remember what word I meant, haha.
> 
> I am not a fan of violence, and action scenes often play out really lamely in writing (but not on the screen!), so sorry if some of y’all were expecting some bloody fight scenes or something, ha. 
> 
> Okay, thoughts on Wonwoo? I know he’s a super minor character here, but there’s something there. Filling in some things I’ve been hinting at, I guess, like why Jungkook’s hated him, clearly, for so long. But also, look, he CAN be sweet! Aw.
> 
> The flowchart thing keeps making me laugh.
> 
> Okay, also, Y/N has been through a lot, yikes. Let’s move toward the healing now, thanks! The story is almost over. One-two more chapters, I think.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	13. Actions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waaaa, my head has been in such a funky space this week, and that probably shows in my writing. We are nearing the end of the story, so naturally I am trying a ton of things up and trying to make sure it all makes sense. Hopefully it’s not terrible.
> 
> In other news, “Actions speak louder than words.”
> 
> Italics are things Y/N writes or types.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, abuse of power, threats, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

            Of course Jungkook almost falls off of the bed in the morning the moment he becomes aware he isn’t alone in the bed and that not only is Y/N next to him, but his tall, broad-shouldered, intimidating-as-fuck boss is as well.  It’s this, the consequence, the aftermath of thinking too little or too quickly that makes him flounder when his eyes finally focus on the girl and Seokjin staring at him.  His boss is leaning on his own elbow, smiling at him with a clearly teasing smile, but the girl is frowning again.  Before he can get out from under the covers or apologize for being so surprised, the girl sighs and sits up, untangling herself from him and Seokjin.

            “I’m going to shower,” she says, steadying herself on Jungkook’s shoulder as she climbed out of bed.  He sits there before moving, staring at Seokjin until she is out of the room.

            “Kookie,” Seokjin says, causing Jungkook to still and turn back around slowly, standing awkwardly by the bed while looking down at his boss with raised eyebrows.  “What happened while I was gone?”

            “What do you mean, sir?” Jungkook says, because a lot happened, and he had let his boss know about most of it.  His boss stares at him for a moment before lying back, resting his head on both of his hands.

            “You two didn’t stay here.”

            “No sir.”

            “You stayed at your place.”

            “Yes sir,” Jungkook says slowly when Seokjin’s brow furrows.

            “It’s a good thing nothing happened, as that wasn’t necessarily the safest option.”

            “I’m aware, sir.  But she wanted-she insisted to come to mine.”

            “Insisted?” Seokjin says, his mouth quirking slightly.  “And, what, you let her decide what was best?”

            “I,” Jungkook says before snapping his mouth shut.

            “Like I said,” Seokjin sighs, closing his eyes for a second, “it’s a good thing nothing bad happened.  It sounds like you kept her safe.”

            “Do you—are you,” Jungkook fumbles, flopping his hands against his thighs anxiously, afraid of asking the question in case his boss is, yes, very upset with and angry at him.  “You said to take care of her.”

            “I did,” Seokjin says, opening one eye to look at Jungkook.  “And it sounds like you took good care of her.”  Jungkook looks away for a second, knowing what his boss is referring to but not quite ready to put it into words yet.

            “I just figured, she’s an adult.  She’s really smart.  She can make decisions for herself.  So I let her decide.  I know I should have asked first.  I just.  Well, you—” Jungkook stops himself, but Seokjin already knows what he’s trying to not say.

            “I don’t own her.  But she was under my care.  Still is, until she decides not to be.  I’m not upset with you, Kookie.  Though I would have preferred to hear it from you and to have heard about it sooner rather than later,” Seokjin says, stretching and sitting up.  Jungkook isn’t embarrassed by how relieved he is to know his boss isn’t mad at him.  “By proxy she was and is under your care, too.  I trusted you to take care of her, and you did.  I am not upset, Kookie.”

            “Okay,” Jungkook says, still feeling like he has done something wrong.

            “She, on the other hand,” Seokjin says, gesturing toward the door, “might be.”  Jungkook’s head whips around, half expecting the girl to be standing there, but the doorway is empty.

            “What?  Why is she upset?”

            “Kookie,” Seokjin says, a little fondly but also with enough of a teasing tone in it for Jugnkook to recognize.  “If you’re uncomfortable with me around, I’ll be more than happy to give you some space.”

            “You—that—no, no, sir, that’s not necessary,” Jungkook rushes, waving his hands in front of him as he turns back toward his boss who is biting the edge of his lips, trying not to laugh at him.

            “Really, Kookie, I don’t mind.  I told Y/N you could do whatever you wanted with her.”

            “I—no, I don’t,” Jungkook tries again, but Seokjin only raises his eyebrows and frowns at him.

            “If you don’t want to, then don’t.  And tell her that.  Don’t say that and act like an inexperienced child just because you’re embarrassed I’m in the room and then kiss her the moment you’re alone.”

            “I—” Jungkook gapes, his fists clenching slightly and his face positively burning now, but Seokjin only raises a hand to stop him, which he obediently does.

            “I don’t mind sharing,” he says, “even though, since I don’t own her, she’s not even mine to share.  It is completely up to her, but you also need to get your shit together before you hurt her more than you already have.  If you feel unable to share, even though you also do not own her, then we might have a problem, though I will happily step aside if you both want that.”

            “I,” Jungkook says again, his eyes widening.  “I don’t want that.”

            “Oh, Kookie, we all know that’s not true though, don’t we?  You do want her, don’t you?” Seokjin says seriously, not a hint of teasing in his voice.  Jungkook takes a deep breath before nodding, not trusting himself to speak.  “Then act like it.  Tell her.  It is pretty simply.”

            “It’s—it’s not that simple,” Jungkook sighs, but Seokjin only shrugs and points behind him.

            “I don’t know, I think it is, don’t you think so, Y/N?”  Jungkook tries not to groan, and he doesn’t turn around, as there’s no point.  He knows who’s behind him, and he can feel her more than hear her walking up behind him.  She pokes him in his side before pushing on his hips so that he stumbles out of her way, and the smell of oranges hits him so strongly he’s not sure what knocks him off balance more, his embarrassment or her scent or the shove she just gave him.  He watches dumbly as she climbs back into bed next to his boss, her backside barely covered by a long, plain shirt that must belong to Seokjin.  He catches a glimpse of her underwear as she gets onto the bed, and he distinctly recognizes the pair from their shopping trip so many weeks ago. 

            Once she’s settled beside Seokjin, leaning against the headboard and on his shoulder, the girl glares a little at Jungkook, and while he’s never been afraid of her before, there is something in her stare that intimidates him.  She is not at all like Seokjin.  He isn’t afraid of her punishing him or making him do something he’s uncomfortable with; he’s just worried about losing her or upsetting her, which he’s clearly already done.  He’s disappointing her without meaning to, and it’s that, a fear of disappointing others, that he realizes they all share to varying degree.  Or, perhaps, while all humans desire to avoid upsetting others, some feel the aversion more intensely than others.  Jungkook feels like he can’t quite take it this morning, if he ever can, and drops his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the girl losing her faith in him. 

            He had almost forgotten that he was dressed in Seokjin’s clothes, too, as he hadn’t gone home and hadn’t planned to stay the night anyway.  The shirt is a little big on him, or just big in general, so he can barely see the pair of also borrowed boxers poking out from underneath its hem.  Still, the odd sizes are enough to hold his attention and distract him well enough from Y/N and Seokjin staring at him.  His toes, too, are suddenly fascinating, and he even wiggles a few of them, wondering if it really means anything if someone’s index toe is as long as or longer than their big toe.  He doubts it, or would like to think that some facts are merely coincidences, and the size of one’s toes or fingers just means that their digits are that length and nothing else is related to how many centimeters or inches they are, because to assume that one’s fingers or feet could actual mean that—

            “Kookie,” the girl sighs, sounding obviously disappointed.  Jungkook hums and finds something to stare at on the wall, not wanting to acknowledge how he couldn’t give her what she wanted.  The wall can’t distract him for long, though, as he feels a few tentative, soft fingers brushing down his arm.  The touch jolts him, but he looks because he can’t pull himself away.  The girl isn’t glaring at him, anymore, but she looks expectant, which means he still has plenty of opportunities to let her down.  She’s on the edge of the bed, waiting for him, and he turns toward her because he really does want to even as he feels his neck heating up.  The slight shift in his posture is enough for the girl, and she slides back off of the bed, pressing up against him and looking up at him.  She barely even comes up to his chin, and he remembers when she had tried to kiss him but had been too short, and he can’t help but smirk at her, feeling a bit cruel but amused all the same. 

            The girl doesn’t look annoyed though; she actually smiles back.  She doesn’t try to kiss him, though, only takes his hands and turns him around until he can feel the bed behind his knees.  He lets her push him gently enough so that he has to sit and even lets her let go of him.  He knows Seokjin is still sitting behind him, close enough to stop him if he changes his mind, and he knows he is still watching, so he sits up straight, watching the girl closely.  There’s thankfully something soft in her look, not only in the smoothness of her thighs that are on full display or in her freshly showered smell and wet hair, but also in the way she is looking down at him, smiling so small he doubts anyone else would notice it if they weren’t so close to her.  When she seems to be satisfied with his attention focused on her, she takes his hands like he is used to her doing when she seems to just want something to do with her own hands or just wants some excuse to touch him innocently and moves them enough out of the way so she can climb onto his thighs.  He spreads them slightly without even thinking and lets his hands fall when she’s fully straddling him.  The position seems oddly familiar, but he can’t quite bring himself to relax.  It’s too reflective of that night in the club when Seokjin brought the girl over, and he doesn’t want to remind her of that, either.  He doesn’t want to think about the club at all.  About Nestor.  About blood. 

            The girl’s shirt is white.  It’s not see-through, but she seems to glow underneath it, her skin dark enough to shine through the boring white.  It’s white.  Her hair is still too black, too fake, too dyed, too much of a reminder of what she was made to do.

            “Y/N,” he chokes.  Jungkook can’t remember the last time he cried, though it was probably around two years ago after he first started working for Seokjin, and he isn’t about to cry, now.  He’s supposed to be the one protecting her, comforting her, keeping her safe from more assholes like Nestor, but he’s not Seokjin.  He’s never been able to handle violence despite the anger he often feels.  He gets an urge to punch people more often than he would like to admit, but the aftermath always leaves him feeling worse, sick and out of control and weak and pathetic.  He’s never understood how Seokjin and the others are so unfazed after a job, how they’ve done it so much longer than he has.  He hopes, for not the first time, that Seokjin really did mean what he said.

            “Kookie,” the girl says carefully, running her fingers through his hair and gently over his face, pushing her thumbs a little harder on the edges of his eyes to stop the water they were for some reason collecting from escaping.  She goes for his arms next, still keeping eye contact with him as she trails down past his sleeves and over his bare arms.  His fists are clenching on the bed, not anywhere near her, and she reaches for them to pry his fingers apart, but he doesn’t let her move him at all.  He wants to touch her, he really does.  He knows he does.  He also knows that the second he stops looking at her and lets himself move he’s afraid he’ll fall apart completely and just disappoint her in another way.  She seems to have abandoned her attempts on his hands and moves to his chest instead, splaying a steadying hand over his heart while exploring with the other, eventually slipping her fingers under the hem of his shirt enough to touch his stomach, making him flinch uncontrollably.

            “Kookie,” the girl says patiently, a little pleadingly, but Jungkook only concentrates on her face, too worried to ease up any.  Y/N still doesn’t sigh, only ghosts her fingers around his side, trying to get him to react.  He is, even if she doesn’t know it or acknowledge it.  His fists are slowly unclenching, and he can feel the softness of the bed under them, nothing like how soft her skin would be if he finally just touched her.  The girl leans close enough to make leaning forward easier, and he allows himself this, meeting her halfway.  Her hand still hasn’t moved from his chest, and it’s a little crushed between them now, but she doesn’t seem to mind if the small smile on her face is any indication.  Her eyes flicker from his own eyes to his lips, and he finds himself doing the same, knowing what he wants and what she wants.  But he can’t bring himself to do it.  Something at the back of his mind is keeping him back.  He’s afraid of something.  Or someone.  He can’t predict what will happen if he allows himself to do what he wants, even if he has been told multiple times that it is okay.  He has learned, over the years, that people can say one thing and do another.  He has heard threats and promises that everything will be alright only become lies when someone lay bleeding at his feet.  He knows he is allowed, but he doesn’t quite believe it.  So he doesn’t reach forward to kiss the girl despite how much he wants to, despite how close she is.

            “You can touch her,” Seokjin says, his voice making Jungkook blink so much he almost loses sight of the girl in front of him.  He hates himself a little when he raises his hands finally to place them on the girl’s bare thighs, but she sighs so quickly that he withdraws them as if he’s touched a stovetop, holding them in the air in front of himself, as far away from her as possible when he’s still so close to her.

            “Seok,” the girl huffs, “he always does whatever you say.”

            “I don’t,” Jungkook starts to protest, but the girl only rolls her eyes.

            “So just sit there and be quiet, okay, Seok?” Jungkook feels his eyes go a little wide at the girl telling his boss what to do, and he wants to turn around to see how Seokjin is taking it.  He’s heard Namjoon tell Seokjin what to do, but Seokjin always ignores him or brushes him off.  He’s heard Jimin tell Seokjin to do something, but Jimin tells everyone what to do, and Seokjin knows the boy well enough to just listen patiently even if he doesn’t follow the boy’s advice.  And Jungkook’s heard Taehyung tell Seokjin to do something, though Seokjin absolutely never listens to his brother.  You don’t tell Kim Seokjin what to do.  But Jungkook hears his boss actually laugh, albeit lightly as the bed moves a little behind him.  Seokjin doesn’t say anything, and Jungkook sees the girl smile sweetly, presumably over his shoulder at his boss, before she focuses back on him.

            “We’ve been over this, Kookie,” she says softly.  “You can touch me if you want because I’m just me.  So if you want to, you can.”

            “Do you want me to?” he says back in an equally quiet voice.  He’s not sure why they’re whispering, as Seokjin is still close enough to hear, but he doesn’t want to annoy the girl anymore than he’s sure he already has.

            “Yes,” she says simply, watching her hand run through his hair and down his face before finding its place behind his neck.  “Dummy.”

            “Hey,” he says, tsking, “not all of us are in grad school, smarty.”

            “That’s a terrible come-back,” the girl says fondly, and it only makes Jungkook tremble.  He is still hesitant, not trusting himself, but he can’t seem to stop himself, now, letting his hands roam over her thighs to her back, slipping his hand under her shirt and finding the dip in her lower back so easily he runs his fingers over it before running his whole palm up her back, pressing against it until she’s even closer to him than she was.  He’s not satisfied, though, and even as her hands move to hips as she shifts a little, he brings his hands to her face to tilt her face where he wants it so he can finally kiss her.  She sighs immediately, though not in annoyance, and grabs at the end of his shirt, pressing against him so suddenly he almost falls back on the bed, but he presses his heels into the ground and pushes back.  She seems to want him to lie down, though, as she rolls her hips and tries to move her hands back to his chest, but he lets go of her face to hold onto her hips, making her still a little.  He’s busy enough trying to get her to let him into her mouth, and she simply grabs onto the front of his shirt, letting him push her back a little instead of fighting him.  Jungkook is more pleased than he expected, but he still wants something else, possibly something even more, and he pulls away from her lips only to bend his head enough to reach behind her ear to let out a content sigh, her wet hair tickling his forehead unobtrusively.  Y/N doesn’t chase him or push him away, though her cheek presses into him when someone says something behind him.

            “Don’t let me stop you,” Seokjin says unabashedly, the bed rocking enough for Jungkook to feel the need to grab onto Y/N to help her keep her balance as his boss gets up.  “I’m going to go get breakfast and something for Y/N.  Carry on.  Not that you need my permission,” he calls out from the door, Jungkook watching him wave his hand behind him.  When Jungkook pulls his head away from Y/N, even though he doesn’t want to, the girl absolutely beams, and Jungkook would like to think it’s because of something he’s done when he really thinks she’s just laughing at Seokjin.  He tries to make a compromise in his brain so that he doesn’t spoil the mood and decides perhaps it’s a little bit of both.  He thinks that the girl might want to continue, especially now that Seokjin is gone, and Jungkook does not let himself think she was only kissing him because his boss was in the room when she doesn’t.  She just sits in his lap, running her fingers through his hair again, and Jungkook is not disappointed.  It’s not quite what he needs, nor what he wants, and he can hear Seokjin busy in the kitchen by the time he finally gets the courage to say something.

            “Can we lie down?”

            “Sure,” the girl says, standing up quickly so he can do so.  She joins him just as quickly, lying facing him as he is used to already.  He’s expecting her to tuck herself under his chin like he’s used to, even though that isn’t what he wants, so he stops her before she can fit herself into place.

            “Can I?” he says, scooting closer to her.  She looks up at him and waits for him to finish, but he can’t bring himself to ask.  She lifts up her arm as her eyebrows raise as an invitation, and he gets even closer, putting his forehead tentatively on her chest.

            “Oh, do you want to be the little spoon?” she says with a laugh that doesn’t sound like she’s making fun of him, but he curls up a little, anyway, hating how he feels.  She thankfully seems to sense his apprehension and brings her arm down to hug him closely, throwing a leg around him for good measure, too.  “Are you okay?” she says seriously once she’s settled into place, and he really doesn’t think he is, but he’s not going to talk about Nestor now or even about Seokjin or even about what they are.  He knows it’s immature, but he just wants to ignore everything as long as he can.  He won’t be able to forever, but Y/N’s hand moving up and down his back is a distraction enough.  He doesn’t even answer the girl, but he doesn’t think she really minds if her not questioning him again is any clue to how comfortable she is with being so close to him.

 

            You had been too shaken the previous day to even think about Jungkook or Seokjin.  On the one hand, you just wanted someone to be there and comfort you.  You were glad it was Jungkook and Seokjin, in the end, not just because they made you feel safe, but also because it was easy, natural, to feel safe around them both.  The gun had scared you.  Still did, in many ways, but you trusted Seokjin would explain today.  You had tried to not think about it by sleeping and clinging to the pair and trying to figure out why Jungkook was acting so strangely.  The only thing you could think of was his reluctantly to make a move without Seokjin’s permission.  It was a bit strange, the hold that the man seemed to have over the boy, especially since it wasn’t sexual or physical.  For some reason, the boy did whatever his boss said, and it was obviously messing with his head more than he would admit, maybe even more than he knew. 

            If whatever Seokjin told you about his job didn’t help reveal any clues as to Jungkook’s strange actions, you would have to just ask him if he didn’t share the information freely.  The way he was curled up around you seemed odd, too, but it was also something he clearly didn’t want to talk about, so you just let him lie there with you, content to be comfortable for the time being.  You can hear Seokjin in the kitchen, and while it is warm and nice by Jungkook, you are hungry, so when Seokjin comes back into the room, you wait for Jungkook to move before you roll over, too, smiling up at Seokjin who's holding a tray in front of him.  Seeing you, he smiles, too, before placing the tray down on the bed.  Sitting up, trying not to rock the bed too much, you can’t help but smile wider as Jungkook’s hand fiddles with the bottom of your—Seokjin’s—shirt, though the boy doesn’t move much beyond that.

            “What’s this?” you say even as you reach for a bowl of rice.  You had found Seokjin’s breakfasts odd at one point, but you had missed his cooking while he was gone, and you would gladly eat anything he put in front of you at the moment.  Still, the wallet on the tray has caught your attention more than anything else.  You know it’s yours, because while it looks like a plain black leather wallet, you can see the tiny glimpse of yellow cloth from the inside and the broken clasp on the coin purse on the side.

            “We figured you would want your things back,” Seokjin says, still standing too far away from the bed.  “The rest is still out in the car.”  Food untouched, you reach for your wallet, running your fingers over it before opening it up.  Your license is still in it, even if your money and most of your cards are gone.  It’s more than you expected.  It’s all more than you could have ever hoped for, and you practical leap out of the bed, not caring if the tray jostles or knocks anything over, straight into Seokjin’s arms.  You grab for his head even as he smiles.

            “Little one,” he says, but you tug on him until you can reach, placing a thankful and comfortable kiss on his lips.  It doesn’t feel like the kisses you’ve shared before, less confident somehow, and you pull away after a second, realizing a possible explanation.  You practically freeze in Seokjin’s grasp, only shaking slightly as you held yourself up on your tiptoes, already feeling like everything was getting thrown off balance.  You turn around slowly, holding onto Seokjin’s arm as you come back to the ground to look at Jungkook.

            “Kookie,” you say slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.  He’s sitting up in the bed now, one hand on the tray as if he grabbed it when you got up to stop anything from falling over.

            “It’s weird,” he bursts out, his eyes a little wide.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know what to think, okay?  He’s—he’s,” he flounders, pointing at his boss and bouncing his finger up and down, “Seokjin.  My boss.  He’s.  Part of me just wants to back away and let him have you.  Not that he can ‘have’ you,” he emphasizes what he means by throwing up air quotes, and you find yourself biting back a smile at his desperation to be understood.  “But then part of me is, I don’t know, jealous, or something, because I want to kiss you.”

            “You can kiss me,” you say, trying not to smile too widely as you feel Seokjin pinch your side gently.

            “I know.  I just.  I mean.”

            “You want to be the only one kissing me,” you suggest, and the boy nods as if he’s afraid to.  “I see.  That’s actually really sweet.”  Seokjin squeezes your side again in agreement and you bat his hand away, stepping closer to Jungkook again to brush his bangs out of his eyes, putting y our free hand on the bed to steady yourself.  “We’ll figure it out, okay?  I don’t quite know, either, what to do or say.  Just, don’t fight, okay?”

            “With Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, his eyes going wide.  “Never.  Except at the gym when he tells me to.  I’m not stupid.”

            “I know,” you say softly, laughing as you kiss his forehead.

            “Y/N’s right,” Seokjin says, and you turn around halfway to look at the other man.  “We’ll figure everything out.  For now, you need to eat and get dressed, little one, as we’ll have company soon.”  While you think you’ve met everyone before, you are still immediately nervous, the uncertainty of what you’re going to hear making you feel unsettled.  The look, the smirk on Wonwoo’s face flashes in your mind as you stand up, nodding quietly to Seokjin.  He soon joins you and Jungkook on the bed, and the three of you eat in relative silence.  It’s comfortable and comforting, so much so that your stomach, though finally full, is still uneasy about whatever the rest of the day holds.

 

            The uneasiness you’re feeling seems to spread to Jungkook, who’s still fidgeting and antsy an hour later when you’re both sitting on the couch.  You’ve been trying to get some homework done, but your own mind and Jungkook were too much of a distraction to be very productive.  Plus, Seokjin, despite sitting seemingly calmly in his chair, had a frown on his face and hadn’t gotten off of his phone for hardly a second, whether he was texting or talking to someone, which only seemed to be making Jungkook and thus you more nervous.  It surely couldn’t be that serious, whatever Seokjin did for a living.  When someone finally arrives, Namjoon and Yoongi, the amount of tension in the air seems to dissipate enough for you all to breathe a little easier, though the two seem to bring in an aura of anxiety all of their own.  They are both really quiet as Yoongi places something on the island.

            “Breakfast,” he explains, “since not everyone here is Seokjin.”  The man smiles at that and greets his friends with side hugs, ones that Namjoon seems to lean into and Yoongi begrudgingly accepts.  The two are barely settled when the door opens again, Hoseok and Jimin’s bright appearances looking a little dimmer than usual as they both arrive.

            “I’m sorry, boss,” Hoseok says the moment he’s inside, which makes Seokjin raise his eyebrows, but before he can say anything Jimin pokes his head out from behind his boyfriend to say,

            “I’m sorry, Jin.  I couldn’t lie to him.”  No one, Seokjin included, is sure what Jimin means, but in the next second one last figure arrives in the doorway, and he slams the door shut behind him before throwing a finger at Seokjin.

            “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

            “Tae,” Seokjin says softly.  You see Jungkook jump up from the couch immediately, placing himself in front of you and his boss, his whole body tensing.

            “Don’t,” Taehyung says, shaking his head fiercely.  “Don’t start that.  I thought—I thought we agreed we would figure everything out together.  I thought—I thought you trusted me.  Fuck, I thought I could trust you.  Jin—”

            “Sit down, Tae,” Seokjin says, pointing toward the couch.  His brother’s own finger wavers before it falls to his side as the man grits his teeth together.  “I’m in charge, and I’m going to make a decision I know you won’t like—”

            “How do you know?  You didn’t ask—you haven’t even asked me!  You were going to—you didn’t even want me here!” Taehyung’s voice is strained as he gestures around the room.  Everyone else is standing, watching, and even though Yoongi seems unbothered, Namjoon keeps looking between the two brothers, and Hoseok is standing firmly with Jimin behind his back.

            “I am in charge,” Seokjin says again, keeping his voice calm, “and the decision I am going to make today, have been trying to make for months, is one that you won’t like.  I know this,” Seokjin says, his voice only rising in the slightest once Taehyung tries to interrupt him, “because I know you.  You are my brother, and I know you.  And I know what is best.”

            “You,” Taehyung stammers before glaring and throwing another finger at Seokjin.  “Fuck you.  You don’t have any idea what’s best for me.”  Seokjin remains unmoved, however.

            “I do.  I know you’ve never been able to see that.  But I do.  This is the right decision for you.  And me.  And all of us.  We can’t keep going on like this.  I don’t want to.  I’m tired, Tae.”  It’s evident in his voice, at least to you.

            “Seok,” you say gently from behind him, tugging on his sleeve a little.  Taehyung seems to jump when he notices you, though you aren’t sure if he’s confused or annoyed or furious as something flashes over his face.

            “It’s okay,” Seokjin says with a slight sigh, putting his arm around you.  “Why don’t we all sit down?  Tae, grab yourself a bagel.  No donuts.”

            “I can eat what I want,” Taehyung says irately, but Seokjin only glares at him before moving toward the couch.  Jungkook waits until Taehyung stuffs a bagel in his mouth before easing up to join his boss on the other side of you, too.  Whatever tension you had felt before only seems to have multiplied with the appearance of Taehyung.  The room goes quiet, and you can feel everyone looking at Seokjin, waiting.  He seems to be waiting for something, too, perhaps himself, and you finally reach your hand out to place on his arm to get his attention.  He blinks and looks at your hand for a second before opening his mouth, and everything feels extremely wrong.

            “Can I—” you say before he gets a word out, asking him even though everyone else is around.  “It’s just, before you say anything, Wonwoo asked to be here.”

            “Wonwoo?” Jungkook scoffs dismissively, his tone clearly angry.

            “What do you mean?” Seokjin asks a little kinder, though he also sounds confused.

            “Yesterday,” you say, clearing your throat, “I mentioned you were going to, um, tell me what you do.  And he said he would like to be here.”

            “Wonwoo,” Seokjin says again, though it isn’t a question this time.  You only nod, watching him frown and wondering if Wonwoo was right and Seokjin would not, in fact, let him come just because you asked.  “I didn’t even think of him,” Seokjin says after a moment, staring off at nothing.  He’s clearly thinking about something you don’t understand or have no context for, and you squeeze his arm gently when he continues to think.  “Yeah, no, of course, go ahead and get him.”

            “Thank you,” you whisper even though everyone can hear you.  You can’t help but notice Taehyung glaring at you when you get up, and even though you’re only going downstairs and don’t need him to come, you turn back to call to Jungkook to come with you.  The boy blinks at you in confusion for a second before standing up, though, as soon as he does, he looks back at his boss, obviously expecting permission or instruction.  Seokjin, however, makes no move to tell Jungkook what to do, and you can’t help but feel relieved and a little proud of him when he turns back to follow you, anyway.  He waits until you’re in the hallway before he stuffs his hands in his pockets and visibly crowds your personal space a little aggressively.

            “Wonwoo’s a prick,” he hisses, “and you shouldn’t do anything for him.”

            “Why is it such a big deal?” you say, pushing him away with your elbow as you try to walk to the elevator.  “Just because the two of you don’t get along—”  Jungkook scoffs and tries to walk in front of you.

            “He’s an asshole who holds no respect for Seokjin.  I don’t know why he’s still around.”

            “Wonwoo said something about loyalty.  Said his dad worked with Seokjin’s.”

            “For him, not with him,” Jungkook says, though he sounds tired more than angry as you push the elevator button.

            “I still don’t get what the big deal is, though,” you say.  “I mean, you’re not jealous, are you?”

            “Of Wonwoo?” Jungkook scoffs again.  “No.  He’s no threat.”

            “Then chill,” you say, and Jungkook bristles a little but keeps his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched a little as you step into the elevator.

            “You just don’t get it,” he says, leaning against the wall, leaving you to lean against the other one so you can stare at him, annoyed.

            “Well, I want to.  So I hope Seokjin explains everything like he said he would.”

            “You don’t want to know,” Jungkook whispers, looking away. 

            “What?”

            “You don’t want to know,” he says louder, pushing himself off of the wall and rolling his neck.  “You should tell him you don’t want to know.  You should leave.”

            “What?” you only manage to say again, because your brain is misfiring.

            “You’re safe now.  But I can’t, and Seokjin can’t, guarantee that you will be.  You should go while you can.  Before he tells you.”

            “What?  What does he—it can’t be that bad,” you end lamely, though your heart is racing at the way Jungkook is avoiding looking at you.  “Do you—do you really want me to go?”

            “No,” he says immediately, thankfully.  “But I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made.”

            “What?  What mistake?” you say, stepping closer to him since he still won’t look at you. 

            “Saying yes.  Saying yes to him.  I never should have.”

            “Kookie,” you whisper, reaching for him just as the elevator dings and starts to open.

            “Wonwoo,” Jungkook says, pushing past you to stick his head out.  “Get your ass in here.  Seokjin wants you upstairs.”  You hear the boy grumble and curse under his breath, but he stops in the doorway the moment he sees you, ducking his head and avoiding Jungkook by standing across from him, which means standing next to you.

            “Morning,” he says in a fake cheerful voice you find yourself resembling back with an equally fake smile.  “So he really said yes, huh?”  You only shrug, and your anxiety only increases as you go back upstairs, each floor seeming to add to your confusion and worry.

 

            Jungkook hates himself a little for telling the girl to leave.  Seokjin has been nothing but good to him, and he never wishes to speak ill of him.  He has done his best.  He has never, to Jungkook’s knowledge, broken a promise to him or his employees and friends.  But he never should have started working for him.  He wasn’t meant for Seokjin’s world.  And the girl certainly wasn’t, either.  He has never felt so torn in his life.  He knows the girl should not get involved.  He knows Seokjin means well and would never hurt her intentionally.  He is just afraid they both are not thinking clearly enough about the consequences. 

            He also just really, really doesn’t like Wonwoo.  Not since the guy insulted Seokjin and insinuated that he only did what his boss said because he was trying to kiss his ass.  Jungkook has no desire, literally or metaphorically, to kiss Seokjin’s ass.  He only wants to please him, to impress him, to make him understand how grateful he is for helping him in the first place.  And sometimes, certainly people just don’t get along.  He can’t see himself ever liking Wonwoo enough to respect him as a co-worker or fellow human.  That’s it.

            Sure, he also doesn’t like how close the guy is standing to Y/N in the elevator, but once they’re back to Seokjin’s floor the girl doesn’t pull away from Jungkook when he reaches for her hand and leads her back inside.  She doesn’t fight or pull away when he leads her back to the couch to sit by Seokjin, either.  And she doesn’t tease him or say anything when he sits even closer than before as he tries his best not to glare across the room at Wonwoo.  The guy at least has the decency and enough smarts to remain standing by the kitchen island, not quite in the same room with everyone else who all eye him a little suspiciously.  They had all clearly been talking while they were gone, since everyone had gotten quiet when they came back in, but Jungkook doesn’t really care.  He has always tried to not pay attention when Seokjin talks with Namjoon and Yoongi especially, as he never felt like it was his business.  If pressed, he probably knew as much as they did about Seokjin’s business, but he doesn’t want to know.  He doesn’t want Y/N to know, either.  He doesn’t want her to know he has been keeping things from her.  He doesn’t want her to know that every time they had left the house, every time he had sat near her in class, he had had a gun on him.  He doesn’t want her to realize he is a bad person even if he doesn’t want to be.  He doesn’t want her to leave him.

            “Well,” Namjoon actually says, clearing his throat.  Seokjin takes a deep breath, and Jungkook finds himself holding his own as they all watch him.

            “Well,” Seokjin says.  “Thank you all for coming.”  Taehyung snorts but doesn’t say anything, and Wonwoo is smirking like the bastard that he is a little too widely.  “I know this may all seem a little sudden, even though most of you know this is years in the making.  It’s a long time coming.  But there are actually two reasons for this meeting today.  First, Nestor is dead.”  A few people don’t react, obviously not surprised or already aware, but Jungkook feels the girl stiffen a little simply at the mention of the man, and he doesn’t really blame her, only reaches for her hand, not caring who sees.  “As you know,” Seokjin continues, glancing at Y/N and Jungkook briefly, “we had been trouble with him for a while.  When I took over the company from our father, I told I didn’t want him shooting porn anymore with his girls, and while he seemed to comply, he was extremely unhappy, to put it mildly.  And old habits die hard.  He threatened me, all of us, often, though they were all pointless.  He never carried through on anything, and I think we all know it’s because he was too afraid to.  I thought, after a few years, that he had given in, finally, and was fine with just running the club.  You all know I don’t support such activities, either, but I know the other men have always needed it.  I viewed it as a necessary evil, if you will,” Seokjin explains.  No one disagrees with him, but no one says anything, either.  “And Tae, when you brought Jimin home that one night, when you told me he needed help, it only made me hate myself, and hate father, more.  Everything he did, everything we had been doing, only promoted such violence and anger and evil.  I know,” Seokjin says, holding up his hand to stop his brother, “neither of us had anything to do with what happened to Jimin, but I felt implicated.  Guilty.  Like it was partially my responsibility.  I thought that surely what we were doing wasn’t right.”

            “You saved me,” Jimin says, clinging to Hoseok a little next to Taehyung.  The boy looks determined more than upset, his brows furrowed at Seokjin.  “That was right.”  Jungkook watches as Seokjin nods, leaning back on the couch a little to sigh.

            “I hoped so.  I think you’ve been safer,” he says, and Jimin nods fiercely.  “And I much preferred seeing you finding happiness, finding Hoseok, than I enjoyed threatening people with violence or force.  It’s just—it was what I knew.  It’s all we were taught, Taehyung.  Don’t you see that violence can only beget violence?  That we can’t keep going like this?  It has to stop.  I’ve been trying to.  For years.”

            “You can’t just,” Taehyung starts, but Seokjin holds up his hand again before bringing it down to Y/N’s thigh.  The girl has gone very still beside him, but Jungkook tries not to worry about it too much.  It is a lot to take in.

            “We can be successful, we can make plenty of money without doing anything illegal.  I firmly believe that.  I know that it will be a big change, but that’s one reason why it’s been taking me so long.  I’ve been dealing with our contacts one at a time.  Seeing which ones can simply be bought off.  Seeing which ones, like Nestor, can’t be persuaded to stop or just walk away.  And there a few who I’m not sure what to do with.  Who just refuse to let me, us, go.”

            “It’s not that simple,” Taehyung huffs, waving his hands wildly and widely, finally getting a word in when Seokjin stopped for a breath.  “We can’t just stop being the mafia.  They’ll smell weakness miles away.  Didn’t Torres?  Isn’t that why you were gone so long?  They’ll come after us, Jin.  What you’re suggesting isn’t just dangerous.  It’s stupid.  Fucking idiotic.”

“We don’t need to threaten people for money anymore, Tae,” Seokjin says calmly even as Taehyung slumps back in his chair.  We don’t need to kill people.  We never needed to.  It’s just—Old habits die hard.

            “And dad would be disappointed,” Taehyung says.

            “And dad would be disappointed,” Seokjin repeats before sighing.  The girl has somehow gone even stiller, and Jungkook squeezes her hand gently, but she doesn’t respond.  He’s not even sure what she’s looking at anymore.  “I want Nestor to be the last.  He was kidnapping girls.  Forcing them.  He kidnapped Y/N.  And I didn’t even consider reporting anything to the police until after the fact.  Don’t you see how fucked up that is, Tae?  You don’t—I’ve tried to keep you away from as much as possible.  I’ve never asked you to help with any jobs.  I know you know what we do.  But you don’t really.  If you did, I don’t think you would fight me on this.  I just need you to trust me on this and believe it’s the best decision.  I know it’s risky.  But we have plenty of allies still.  Plenty of people who are wise enough to know our name will still mean something for years to come.  We may have to watch our backs a little more carefully for a while, maybe even for a few more years.  But I can’t ask Hoseok to leave Jimin again,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook sees Hoseok open his mouth only to promptly shut it when Jimin elbows him.  “I can’t have him risking losing him for me.  I can’t ask Kookie to kill for me anymore.  I just can’t do it.”  Jungkook feels himself stiffen at the mention of his name and at the brokenness in his boss’ voice, something that he has never heard.  It cracks enough for Jungkook to feel his world shatter a little.  “And I know some may see this as weakness, but sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing to do, and sometimes it feels completely wrong.  I know, in the end, if we want to have families, if we want to stop worrying about each other all the time, this is what I have to do.  I have to stop.  And I really hope you’ll all stop, too.  But this is the time to let me know.  I will, of course, put in a good word if anyone needs my recommendation.  Cho and Saito specifically already asked me if Yoongi could come work for them, for instance.”

            “Yeah, no thanks,” Yoongi mumbles.

            “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to, is all I mean,” Seokjin says.  “You are—you are all my family, and you know, or, I hope you know, I’ve always done my best to protect you and provide for you.”

            “Of course,” Hoseok says, smiling widely.  “We’re not going anywhere.  As long as I can keep my day job, as we call it, I’ll be sticking around.”

            “Of course,” Seokjin says, smiling back at him.

            “And we all know you wouldn’t survive a day without Namjoon, so he’s not going anywhere,” Yoongi says, and while Namjoon tsks, he doesn’t say anything.  He’s watching his boss and friend intently, though.  Taehyung and Jimin, who don’t really work for Seokjin anyway, don’t say anything, though Taehyung is still frowning and messing with his fingers.  Wonwoo is quiet, surprisingly, too, so that only leaves Jungkook, and he can feel the others looking at him.  Well, everyone but Y/N.  In fact, she has gone so still and quiet that Jungkook ignores everyone waiting for him and tugs on her hand a little.  He must pull harder than he intended, though, because her head snaps up and she swivels around to stare at him.  The look in her eyes isn’t exactly the same as it had been that morning.  It’s not the same type of disappointment he has seen before.  But it is a look he’s been fearing.  She looks him up and down, looking for something, before she turns away from him, giving the same treatment to Seokjin.  Seokjin only sits there calmly while she does while Jungkook can feel himself panicking more and more with each passing second.  He’s still holding her hand in his, but he can feel her slipping away already.  After what feels like an eternity, the girl stands up, completely wrenching her hand out of Jungkook’s.  She steps away from them and away from the couch and stands glancing back and forth between them for a second.  She opens her mouth only to close it a few times, and Jungkook’s heart plummets.  He stands up and reaches for her, but the girl only steps back, and when Seokjin gets up to try, she only steps away further. 

            “Y/N,” Jungkook chokes.

            “Little one,” Seokjin tries, but the girl turns away, her face frantically looking around the room.  Wonwoo is the only other person standing, and the girl takes a few steps toward him.

            “Want to get out of here?” the boy says, pushing off of the island to step toward her.  To Jungkook’s utter despair, the girl nods.  “I’ll drive you,” Wonwoo says, and Jungkook seethes, ready to punch the fucker, but Y/N only walks closer to the traitor, and Jungkook only clenches his fists at his side, letting her go.  “And then, if I may, sir, I’d like to come back and discuss this more.  I may have a solution or two.”  Seokjin nods beside Jungkook, and Jungkook can’t help but notice not only how tired Seokjin looks, but also how sad and yet relieved all at the same time he seems to be for some unknown reason.  “Go get what you need, Y/N,” the boy says, touching the girl gently on her shoulder that’s still enough to make Jungkook tense.  The girl nods, watching her feet as she shuffles down the hallway.  The room is quiet when she leaves, enough so that Jungkook can hear her packing up the few things she had brought in.  He thinks she’ll come back with her phone, her toiletries at the most, but she returns with the bags he had brought up for her the day before.  She stands in the hallway for a moment, not looking up, but she must see Wonwoo raise his hand toward her because she walks slowly toward him, letting him take one of her bags and place his hand on the small of her back to direct her out of the apartment.  Jungkook can only stand and watch, helplessness and anger flowing through his body simultaneously, as she walks out without even looking back.  Wonwoo puts his hand on the doorknob to close it behind him, but he stills for a second.  Jungkook can only imagine what the boy is going to say to gloat, and he’s ready to beat him to a pulp already, but the boy only smiles softly, genuinely as he says,

            “And sir?  I don’t think you’re weak.”

            “Thank you, Wonwoo,” Seokjin says just as gently before the door closes and the apartment is filled, once again, with silence.

            Jungkook wants to scream.

 

            _Take me to a hotel?_ is all you can manage to type to Wonwoo before you feel yourself break.

            “Whatever you need,” the boy says, handing your phone back before reaching over you to make sure you’re buckled in.  He doesn’t comment on you not speaking, and he doesn’t comment on you crying.  He doesn’t rub it in your face how right he was, how triumphant he must feel about how negatively you reacted.  He doesn’t call you a coward or weak for shutting down and running away.  He doesn’t say anything at all, and for some reason, it is exactly what you need at the moment.  People, after all, can say anything, everything, but all that really matters at the end of the day is what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One question several people have asked me is if we’re getting a poly relationship. Are we?!? Good question.
> 
> I know Jimin and Tae’s backstories are not very clear. I have them in my head, and I kept trying to fit them in the story, but I could never find a spot I was satisfied with, so for now they’re just not going to be in here. I will probably just do a note at the end of the story as a brief explanation.
> 
> There’s just going to be one more chapter, though I can’t guarantee when that will be! Please hang in there. I am excited to see how the story ends, as it is NOT at ALL going where I thought it was going when I started. But that is ALWAYS what happens to my stories. So, you do your thing, characters. I’m just writing your story.
> 
> In other news, I need to write in past tense for my next story. I stink at present tense. I have tried it enough now to know I just don’t like it, ha.
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


	14. Speaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, here we are. What started as an idea as I tried to go to bed has ended up being 226 pages and taken me months to write. It went places I didn’t know it would go. It took me places I didn’t want to go sometimes. But here we are, and I hope people aren’t too upset by the ending. I continue to think I stink at them *shrug*. Thanks for sticking around, especially as this story went on a month hiatus for a while there!
> 
> Please take care of yourselves!
> 
> Italics are things Y/N writes or types.
> 
> Warnings: Some angst, some bad words, abuse, abuse of power, threats, psychological trauma, touchy touchy, mental disorders, panic attacks, sexual content.

          It’s not like you couldn’t have spotted him. There were less than a dozen people in the room. You aren’t sure why he didn’t just sit by you, since everyone could see, and made it obvious they saw, that he wasn’t anymore. But at least no one asked, even though their looks and body language was doing enough to make you annoyed and frustrated. You weren’t sure who you were madder at, your stupid classmates for not minding their business and leaving you alone in your strange silence or at Jungkook for sitting there like nothing had changed whenever everything had. You weren’t even sure if it was Jungkook you should be mad at, anyway, or if Seokjin had told the boy to still show up. He hadn’t driven you, and he wasn’t sitting by you, so it’s not like he could answer for or ask questions for you, so you really weren’t sure why he was there. He barely even looked at you, anyway, and didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But there he was on Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday. And Thursday. Sitting in your classes. Taking notes. Ignoring you.

 

          Jungkook is not ignoring you. He knows he probably shouldn’t be there, but no one told him not to, and he apparently only knows how to take commands and can’t do any thinking for himself, so there he is. He gives you space because he knows you need it, or at least want it, and every second is torture because he wants to ask how you are, wants to apologize, wants to explain, wants to hear you yell at him or something. Anything. He is not ignoring you, because it is impossible to not think about you. He lies in bed at night unable to sleep, something he hasn’t really struggled with in the past couple of years except sporadically after a particularly brutal job. He thought after Seokjin told everyone things would be easier and simpler. More peaceful. Instead everything has gone to shit. And he’s not sure who he’s mad at more, himself or Seokjin. He has to blame someone. He just knows he doesn’t blame you. He doesn’t blame you at all for running off. After all, he had told you to do just that.

 

          You had planned in the beginning of August to be moved into your apartment and living on your own for the first time in over a year. After things failed to go as planned, you had either been sleeping in a room full of other broken, exhausted girls or sharing Seokjin’s apartment or lying next to Jungkook at night. Now, almost two months later, you were trying to sleep in the closest, most decent looking hotel Wonwoo had found.

          You didn’t sleep.

          The weekend took too long to pass. You looked at your books and took notes and retained nothing. You ignored the texts from Seokjin and Jungkook and Jimin and some other number you didn’t recognize. You called the apartment building you had paid a deposit in, trying to find out if your place had been given away already, only to find you could say nothing and were hung up on after a few seconds of the business manager growing angry.

          And then Monday came and you found yourself figuring out the bus system in order to get to class on time. You arrived extremely early as you had been afraid of being late, so you couldn’t miss when Jungkook came in. He looked like such a typical college student in jeans and an oversized hoodie with a backpack on that you almost missed him, but once he sat down on the opposite of the room as you, you couldn’t help but notice him. You couldn’t miss the fact that no one set by you. Or how they all looked at you. At how Jungkook didn’t. You weren’t sure what game he was playing, so you didn’t play along.

 

          Jungkook didn’t know what game he was playing. Seeing Y/N everyday only to never hear from her was torture. It didn’t help that Seokjin had gone radio silent, too. Though he supposes he can’t really blame the man for that. By Wednesday he tried going to his apartment and asking Wonwoo where he had taken the girl, and boy, had the punk enjoyed that. Jungkook had not begged, because Wonwoo, despite what he had done to help, still did not deserve his respect. The boy had yielded up no information and had only smirked once. He almost looked apologetic, but Jungkook couldn’t trust how the boy looked. He wouldn’t even admit if he was still helping Y/N. At the end of the day, Jungkook thinks that’s all that really matters. That someone is looking after you.

 

          You don’t need anyone looking after you. Not really. You are a fully-grown adult. You are intelligent. You are capable and willing, a hard worker, semi-clean, and a joy to be around. But being temporarily mute, as you know, has its downside. You have to write a long explanation to take to the apartment place in person one day, only to have them stare at you oddly before letting you know that, yes, the apartment is already full, and, no, you can not get your deposit back. You’re back to mainly writing e-mails and texts to communicate with people, and thankfully Dr. Klein doesn’t seem to mind, even if Brennan and Price still seem to think you’re faking everything to get some sort of special treatment. You’re quiet in class, though you often write questions down when there is a discussion to go over with the respected teacher later should you feel the need. You struggle with replacing your credit cards as they require you to call over the phone or see them in person, both of which are impossible in your current state. You have no cash but what Wonwoo had offered you the day he dropped you off, and you been too distracted to even question where it came from or how long he booked the room for or how it was being paid for. You don’t need anyone to look after you. It’s what you tell yourself every day, but you feel like a pathetic liar as your nights often turn into crying. You feel helpless and hopeless and hate admitting that you have no idea how to do everything life is currently throwing at you.

          Friday, your body perhaps knowing you have no classes, finds you unable to get out of bed. You haven’t eaten since breakfast the previous day, complimentary of the hotel, and you will yourself to get up for another one before it’s too late. Your steps are more shuffles than anything else, and you don’t even care to be polite and raise your head to the lady at the desk or the waitress who brings you a glass of water and then leaves you alone, perhaps recognizing you by now or noticing your morning sullenness. You don’t just feel sullen, though. The exhaustion that has always come from when you slip back into an inability to talk feels a thousand times worse this time around. Your heart feels like it’s been smashed into pieces like it did the day you left Brycen, only the pain is doubled this time around. School has been draining to the point where every day feels like you have been taking a final and failing despite how hard you have studied. And even though the hotel bed is comfortable like only a hotel bed can be, you have hardly been sleeping, and sleeping alone has been harder than you ever remember it being, an ache in your heart and a chill to your limbs that you can’t seem to combat. In short, you feel like you got run over by a truck and were left there all day, sentient enough to feel every care running over you on a busy highway.

          “You don’t look so good,” Wonwoo says bluntly, popping down beside you and digging into a plate full of eggs. Knowing who it is, you don’t even bother to look up or respond, poking absentmindedly at your own much sparser plate of food. “Still no talking, huh?” he says after a moment, and you at least nod your head. “Huh. Well, Seungkwan sends his regards. Says he misses you. All that blah.” You look up to ask about Seokjin but stop yourself. Wonwoo seems to notice your head moving, though, even as he continues to eat. “So, remember my aunt? Tiny lady about your size?” he says, putting his hand out by his shoulder for good measure, and you nod. “Well, she needs a new tenant, if you’d like to live somewhere a little more permanently. Granted, it’s a tiny place, like as big as this table, and you can barely turn around in the bathroom, but it would be your own place. She also, as you know, is a mean cook, and she would love to try to fatten you up just for the heck of it.” You blink at your plate of eggs before frowning, pulling your phone out to type a message to slide across at him.

_D_ _on’t have a job._

          “Oh, yeah, no problem, I can pay her. You’ll get back to talking again someday, right? You can get a job then and pay for yourself. Or whatever you want to do. Seokjin will pay, if you ask, or, want him to. I bet Kookie even would, if you can get a hold of him.” Your brow furrows at the comment, and you feel a spark of disgust and anger even though it’s really just a mask for your helplessness at his offer.

 _Don’t want your blood money._ Wonwoo laughs, although it sounds a little bitter, at your phone before folding his hands together on the table.

          “Blood money is given when someone in your family has been killed. If you mean you don’t want to be associated with mafia money, then it’s too late for that. I’ve been paying for your hotel all week.” You can only glare at him even if you know you would have been on the streets or somewhere worse if he hadn’t. “Look,” he says, leaning back in his chair and staring at you for a moment. “I get your hesitation. But Seokjin was telling the truth the other day. He’s really backing down. I mean, most people don’t believe him, but I do. He’s got a ginormous entertainment industry to run. And even such a famous CEO would hire bodyguards, so you can just know that my money is, I don’t know what you want me to call it, clean? Safe? It came from honest, hard work.” Wonwoo laughs, leaning back toward the table and smiling at you.

          “Well, I’m sure Seungkwan would disagree that I work hard. But you get it.” You still stare at him, feeling uneasy, and he lowers his voice, his smile vanishing. “I’ve never killed anyone,” he says, surprisingly easily. “Unlike your Kookie and Seokjin. Remember? Seokjin never trusted me with such jobs. Well, at least that’s what I thought. Apparently I was never give the whole story.” The boy sighs and actually looks sheepish for a moment, making you stare at him until he looks back. “Look, we talked, and, well, I admit I was a little harsh. Can you blame me? I mean, my dad died working for his. And our family, I mean, sure, we were taken care of,” Wonwoo laughs hollowing again, pointing a quick finger at you.

          “Blood money, you could say. Anyway, I’ve never really wanted for anything, except maybe more freedom to make my own stupid mistakes, but I thought the Kims would, I don’t know, reward me or something just because my dad did his job. He signed up for it, you know? And I expected to be given a position without working for it, which, I know now was dumb. Is dumb. And I thought Seokjin, when he took over, couldn’t trust me because my dad died on the job. But really,” Wonwoo says, sighing again and tapping his fork against his plate, “apparently he felt so bad about my dad dying he didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. So he kept me doing jobs he thought were safer. So, like I said, my money comes from honest work. Or, now it does. Or whatever. Look, Seokjin has always tried to do good. He helps a lot of charities and shit, I don’t know. He means well. And you really can’t hold this against him forever. He took good care of you, didn’t he? And he wants to still, or, again. At least give him the chance to make it right and explain. Just talk to him.” Wonwoo pauses, perhaps regretting his word choice, but he nods his head once and stands up. He drums his fingers on the back of his chair for a second before slamming his palm down once.

          “Damnit, Kookie, too, okay? He keeps bugging me about how you’re doing, so if you could just talk to him, that’d be great. Also, respond to my texts sometimes so I know you’re not dead if that’s not too difficult? And let me know about the room? My aunt only knows Korean, so I’m sure your lack of talking won’t matter at all when it comes to communicating. Okay,” Wonwoo says, finally finished, nodding again before waving and walking off.

          When the unknown number texts you again later that day, you add Wonwoo to your contacts as Grumpy?

          You spend one more night in the hotel before texting him that you’d like to see the room.

 

          His apartment has never felt big, mainly because he knows it isn’t. One bedroom, a small living room and kitchen, and a tinier bathroom. It was never meant for two people, really, but it had always been enough for him. Now, he stands looking around at the brick wall and his computer desk and wonders if he could fit somewhere smaller. If he should. He doesn’t have to move. Seokjin made that clear, and he has spent so little of the money he’s received over the past two years that he could not work for years and still be able to live sufficiently.

          Not working is something he is definitely not used to. It’s probably the one reason he thinks about moving to begin with; just an antsy thought when he can’t seem to settle down one day. He wastes time playing games, glad at first to have more hours to do so, but they soon grow stale and pointless. He switches to spending hours sweating in the gym which is certainly good for him and helps release a lot of tension, but it only adds to the odd feeling of exhaustion he has. And he tells himself he misses the routine and the purpose, not Seokjin specifically, but by the end of the week he doesn’t know what to think.

          It had been so easy, telling Seokjin he wanted to quit mere minutes after Y/N disappeared with Wonwoo. No one had said anything. No one had tried to stop him. To persuade him he was making a mistake and didn’t mean it. No one bothered to convenience him he was just being emotional and would regret his decision. No one warned him two years ago, either, though, so he supposes he only has himself to blame. Still, he wishes that Seokjin would have said something, anything to convince him that he was actually wanted. Needed. Instead, his boss, no, Seokjin, had given in so easily Jungkook knew something was wrong. He’s always been on the lookout ever since he started working for the man, though at first he never even knew what he was watching for. He feels that way again, glancing around excessively everywhere he goes, half expecting Seokjin to have been lying about it being okay that he just wanted to walk away or lying about himself walking away from the work so easily and to sudden send someone after him because he knows too much. He’d probably send Wonwoo, so it’s his mop of black hair Jungkook anticipates the most. Still, despite his heightened concern, nothing suspicious happens all week. He’s sure he’s overreacting, but the radio silence from Seokjin unnerves him more than he expected.

          It’s the silence from Y/N and the realization that he doesn’t have any friends outside of people Seokjin knows, if they were ever his friends to begin with, that makes him start to hate himself and everyone he comes across. He sits across from Y/N in class because while it’s obvious she doesn’t want him there, she hasn’t said or typed anything and the professors haven’t, either, so he tells himself it’s safe enough to at least share the same air as her. The two to three hours he sees her four days a week ground him during the time but leave him reeling the moment class is over, a bitter taste in his mouth and a sinking feeling in his gut that send him to the gym to punch things over and over until he’s bleeding and unable to breathe. It sends him running to his cave to sulk in private, his moodiness immature and pathetic but at least kept to himself and not hurting anyone else. He finds himself unable to sleep at night, too, though instead of nightmares that have kept him up in the past he can’t even fall asleep to begin with. He paces, then, wanders up and down his tiny apartment until its confines are too suffocating and he has to take to the streets, prowling like a true hooligan, jobless, friendless, pointless.

          He walks by Nestor’s more than he would like to admit, half expecting to see a bunch of police lights and officers waiting to take him away. He finds himself a little disappointed for some reason every time he walks home unscathed, uncaught, unwanted. He hates to admit how right Y/N was. He doesn’t know what to do without working for Seokjin, without having him around to tell him what to do, without trying to please him. He doesn’t know who he is on his own. So while he had tried, at first, to give you space by pretending to take notes during your classes, as the weeks pass by, he opening starts watching you, instead. You never look his way, at least not intentionally, and you definitely look away whenever you notice how intently Jungkook is watching you. Jungkook can tell you look better after a few weeks, wondering where you’re staying and getting so much sleep, sleep that he finds so evasive. You don’t look like you’re starving or struggling even though you still don’t talk in class. He tries not to think if Wonwoo has anything to do with how well you look. He can’t bring himself to be bitter or angry or even jealous, in the end. He resents himself for ever hurting you in the first place, but he is glad, ultimately, to see that you are fine.

          That is the first thing that Jungkook learns while sitting across from you, watching you softly but steadily. He deeply cares for you. For people. He desires to put your happiness, others’ happiness, above his, so much so that he doesn’t even think of himself most of the time. So the second thing he realizes about himself is that he misses working for Seokjin. Not doing dirty and dangerous jobs, but working for the man. At the end of the day, Seokjin was a great boss who only ever told Jungkook to do things because he thought he could handle it. It is Jungkook’s fault for never trying to defy him or letting him know he was uncomfortable with doing certain tasks. He is fairly positive, if he had ever told Seokjin he didn’t want to hurt anyone, Seokjin would have understood and given him a different job. But he never would have abandoned him, dumped him, left him. He let Jungkook quit without putting up a fight because it might have possibly been the first time since Jungkook officially started working for him that he contradicted him. The realization comes late one night like everything else that has been hitting Jungkook and leaving him feel breathless and hopeless because he knows Seokjin will take him back, will give him a safe job, will want him back and yet still doubts it, doubts himself. So it’s already November by the time he finds enough courage to do what he thinks is right and stands outside of Seokjin’s office building that he knows so well, no appointment and no plan for what to say in place.

          Except that he knows he misses you, too, and wants you back in his life, and while he wants to work for Seokjin, he wants to put you first. He will choose you over Seokjin. And he will tell Seokjin that. He knows this much.

 

          Letting go has never been one of Seokjin’s strong suits. He is well-aware of the fact. Changes always bring strife and complications and trouble. He isn’t proud of how long it has taken to try to turn his company into something purely legal and good. He isn’t pleased with how parts of him seem to start itching to grip the handle of a gun or someone’s chin in his hands. He isn’t impressed with how he looks out his window more than down at his desk. He never let himself think that he enjoyed making someone bleed. That was Taehyung. His father. But as time passed, he looked at himself in the mirror more, staring at his eyes to find what he wanted to find; only goodness. He couldn’t find it. He did miss pressing someone’s face into the dirt, kicking someone begging to be spared, watching the way people jumped when he lifted a mere eyebrow. He avoided the gym, afraid of giving in to what he was afraid to confirm, but it only led him to snapping at work more, almost always at Namjoon who certainly didn’t deserve it. He could feel himself withdrawing from everyone and spent longer than necessary at the office, avoiding his empty apartment and using the excuse that was half true that he really did have tons of work to do. He would change himself, however possible, into someone who didn’t enjoy violence. He could change. So he would.

          He didn’t question when Jimin started showing up for lunch, being shooed in by Namjoon and beginning conversation like he simply belonged. He barely blinked at the boy because he was used to him. He had plenty of other things on his mind, so he was only slightly annoyed weeks later when he realized what the boy was doing, sitting across from him laughing at something apparently hysterical Hoseok had said that morning before casually asking Seokjin how work was going.

          “I know what you’re doing,” Seokjin says, pointing his chopsticks at the boy in an attempt to gain control over the situation.

          “What am I doing?” Seokjin has always known Jimin is a professional at faking innocence, so he doesn’t fall for the boy’s coy act.

          “You’re trying to get me to talk.”

          “Oh, oh no,” Jimin says, gasping exaggeratedly and pressing a hand to his chest. “How dare I? Don’t make me sound like one of your goons, Jin. Talking is typically a thing friends do, which, yes, if I need remind you, we are, since no, I do not work for you and am not related to you and am not dating you,” the boy scrunches his nose at the idea playfully, “that only leaves being your friend. If you don’t wish to talk to me, you could ask me to leave.”

          “That’s not what I mean,” Seokjin says slowly, putting his chopsticks down and sighing. “Just say what you’ve been avoiding for weeks.”

          “I have not been avoiding,” Jimin says seriously now. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready to hear me.” Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve seen through me, big deal,” the boy shrugs before plunging in. “You know me well enough to know I love you as I love Tae. You are family. You also know I can not turn off, as someone once so kindly put it. You know the boys tell me things. You know Yoongi and Namjoon are worried about you. Have been for years. Apparently you haven’t been eating unless I show up, and we all know,” Jimin says, raising a finger to stop Seokjin from interrupting him, “how grumpy you get when you don’t eat. Don’t be an idiot. Yoongi has also mentioned you aren’t going to the gym. We all know exercise is important, so unless you’re jacking off mercilessly at home or have suddenly reduced yourself to paying someone, which I know even you at your lowest wouldn’t do,” Jimin says sharply before Seokjin can contradict him, “then that could also explain your grumpiness. It’s also clear you miss Jungkook. We all think it was right to let him go, as that’s what he wanted, but stop acting like it didn’t bother you. Either replace him or go try to hire him back. You also miss Y/N, and you could just be a proper adult and try talking to her. Or keep moping.”

          “She’s not mine,” Seokjin says glumly, and Jimin rolls his eyes.

          “We all know that. She knows that. I’m not Hoseok’s, either, and yet I am. We belong to each other in the sense that we belong with each other. If you think you belong with her, tell her. She’s a grown woman who can decide for herself. And, finally, stop beating yourself up about doing what you know was right.”

          “What?” Seokjin says, because he’s really not sure what Jimin is referring to.

          “You never liked the violence of the job, Jin,” Jimin says surprisingly softly. “Even Tae doesn’t enjoy the violence. It’s like you said. You’re just used to it. Were used to it. You may miss it, but that doesn’t mean you miss it because it was violent. You just need to replace it with something else.”

          “I do miss it,” Seokjin says firmly, but Jimin only tsks and shakes his head.

          “Trust me, as a psychologist, or, more importantly, as your friend. You don’t miss the violence. You miss the control. The power. And you have that still, just minus the guns and blood. You can be successful through persuasion, not threats, through hard work and good leadership, not intimidation. You know this, Seokjin, because you said it yourself. You have plenty to control here,” Jimin throws his arm around the room, “so just focus on that. You were born to be a leader. You just had some bad training along the way. You have much to unlearn, but I know you can do it. We all do.”

          “Isn’t that,” Seokjin says after a moment as Jimin goes back to his lunch, “bad, though? To enjoy control and power over others?”

          “Well, if Hoseok was here, he would probably quote Spiderman, which is annoying but also true even if slightly cliché. Great power brings great responsibility. You don’t need to worry, Seokjin. Sure, you have made mistakes, and you will again, but you take good care of your men, of your employees. You saved me. You saved Y/N, too, and took good care of her. You let Jungkook decide for himself about working for you. You are a good man, Jin. A great, powerful man.”

          “I’m a murderer,” Seokjin says, frowning.

          “You have killed people, yes. Who did you kill?”

          “Murderers,” Seokjin says, clenching his jaw. “Men who killed innocent bystanders and stole innocent girls and forced people on them. People who taught children how to smuggle and sell drugs. People who wouldn’t listen to reason and seemed to only respond to a gun in their face.”

          “I’ve heard it all,” Jimin says, still concentrating on his food. “We could debate the ethics of killing such people, though I’m sure you’d get a better conversation out of Namjoon than me. In short, I believe the means justify the end. You killed those men to protect or help others. You did it for the right reason. Again, you’re only a bad person, Seokjin, in as much as we all are. But you’re not a murderer.” Jimin seems to be done giving Seokjin his two cents, and the older man watches him eat for a minute before staring out the window as he has taken to doing recently. He knows Jimin is finished, but it is still quiet for a while before the boy speaks again. “It’s a lot, Jin, to change all at once. Changing your mind, especially about yourself, is the most difficult thing of all. If you’d like, I can refer you to someone. I think it would be good to continue to work through this, to talk about it.” Seokjin looks so quickly at the boy Jimin almost flinches, and Seokjin has to calm his face, a sure sign Jimin is right. Old habits die hard.

          “I’d prefer talking to you,” Seokjin finally says, looking away.

          “Alright,” Jimin says, standing up to start clearing the table.

          “Y/N,” Seokjin says before Jimin leaves, “needs someone, too. She. Well, she told us what Nestor had done and then the next day found out who I am. It was too much too quickly. Do you think—could you go check on her?”

          “No,” Jimin says simply, so quickly Seokjin only blinks up at him, trying to process the single word. Jimin is right; he doesn’t work for Seokjin, so he can’t tell him to go do it, even though he could easily pay him to do it. “Because,” Jimin continues before Seokjin can reply, “she has my number. She could reach out anytime. Or, if you ask her if she’d like to talk to me and she agrees, I gladly will. I am not your messenger or errand boy, remember. And Jungkook isn’t around to do that, now, either. If you want to learn how to control your desire for power, start here. Start at the bottom. Talk to Y/N. It will get easier after that.”

          It is easier said than done, too, though, because even though Seokjin knows Jimin is right, he thinks about it for weeks, trying to ground himself in his work. He works on not snapping at Namjoon, at listening and conversing with Jimin at lunch, at making sure he fixes and eats a good breakfast, at going to the gym. The last bit becomes harder than he expected. His apartment has felt emptier since Y/N left, but his home has always been his quiet retreat, and the silence there isn’t too overwhelming. He misses Jungkook at the gym, though. Even though the boy hardly ever spoke to him when they worked out or sparred, he misses his quick smiles and how easily it was to tease him. He keeps thinking back to the moment Y/N walked out of his apartment with Wonwoo. He had effectively just lost his job, and then he had quickly and easily lost her. And then Jungkook had told him he wanted to quit. He couldn’t even tell him how different things would be now. He was so surprised at how adamant Jungkook was, how upset he was, how mad at him he was, that Seokjin had to let him go. He had been waiting years, after all, for the boy to contradict him, for the boy to put his foot down, for the boy to finally take what he wanted. He had watching him with Y/N closely enough to realize the pull he held over the boy had gotten extreme, was clearly too unhealthy. He didn’t want that for himself or for Jungkook. So of course he had let him walk out right after Y/N had. For all of his love of power, Seokjin was pretty powerless.

          He waited, then, until he felt like he couldn’t function without him before he decided to call the boy.

          It was November. And Jungkook would have to wait, as someone had shown up without an appointment demanding to see him. He would deal with whoever it was calmly, using a power he was trying to hone, one of persuasion and not intimidation. He was getting better at it, he knew. And Jimin agreed. Everyone did. So he would send whoever it was away quickly so he could find Jungkook. He needed to speak to Jungkook.

 

          “I need to speak to Kim Seokjin,” Jungkook says, planting his feet, his stance a little obnoxiously wide. Being demanding and “pushy” isn’t his thing, but he tries to emulate Seokjin, tries to remember all the times he’s seen the man make people do something just by speaking as if he was using some freaky Jedi mind trick. The lady at the desk, someone Jungkook doesn’t recognize, which makes him wonder how many people have been replaced in the office, doesn’t seem effected, though, and only looks at him, clearly unimpressed. “Please?” he tries, but that only seems to make things worse.

          “Do you have an appointment?”

          “No, but I’m Jung—Kookie, I used to work for him. I know he’ll want to see me. If you’ll just let him know I’m here.”

          “He’s very busy,” the lady says, sounding bored.

          “I know, I’ll just wait here,” Jungkook says, gesturing toward one of the chairs by the desk before sitting down, crossing his legs and watching the lady who does not make any more toward calling anyone. Jungkook wills himself not to get mad, even sends the lady a patient smile, which also doesn’t seem to work. After a few futile attempts, he gives up and gets on his phone, losing track of time but knowing it’s passing by the draining of his battery.

          “Kookie?” a bright but surprised voice says, instantly recognizable, a smell of greasy noodles making Jungkook immediately perks up.

          “Jimin,” Jungkook says quickly, hopping up before slouching a little uncomfortably. He hasn’t seen the boy in over a month, but he looks the same. He smiles widely at Jungkook, which eases his mind a little before holding up the bags of food he is carrying.

          “I’m just taking this up to Jin. Care to join?”

          “Sure,” Jungkook nods. His leg has fallen asleep and he almost trips, smiling awkwardly at the lady as they pass, pretty sure he hears her muttering something about him not having an appointment. Jimin, despite his usual chattiness, is quiet in the elevator, and while there a few faces Jungkook doesn’t recognize, everything is basically the same. The door to Seokjin’s office is certainly the same, and Jimin doesn’t even knock before he pushes it open.

          “Jimin,” Jungkook hears Seokjin’s voice from inside, his tone confused. “I thought you weren’t coming by today.”

          “I said I was going to lunch with Hoseok, but I still brought you food! Also, someone to eat with,” Jimin says as he pushes his way through. Jungkook falters at the door long enough for Seokjin to say,

          “I told you I didn’t want to speak to anyone else—” before he steps in, too. “Oh. Koo—Jungkook.” Jungkook hesitates, because it’s what he’s used to doing in front of the man, but his name makes him stutter, too. But Seokjin smiles at him as he comes around his desk, and while it surprises him, the man walks all the way over to him and throws an arm around his shoulder to walk him toward the table Jimin is placing containers on. “It’s good to see you!” he says, sounding genuine. “I was just about to call you today.”

          “Wha—really?” Jungkook mumbles, already making a fool of himself.

          “Really,” Seokjin says, releasing him to sit on the ground near the table. Jungkook waits until Jimin waves him to do the same as he steps away, waving to the pair before leaving without a word. “I owe you an apology,” Seokjin says, which Jungkook finds himself unable to respond to. He’s never heard his boss—Seokjin—apologize before, especially not to him. “So many apologies, probably. For not being clear with you from the start. And for not letting you feel like you had a choice in matters. I’d like to start over. I’d like for you to come work for me, with me, again. I need a personal trainer, if nothing else. Yoongi is worse than I remember him being,” Seokjin fake sighs, and Jungkook can’t help but laugh a little, imaging the sight. “And I can drive, but I didn’t realize how lazy I am, and how much I hate it. I know it’s not much, but I trust you, and you were good at your job. I’d like you to come back, if you want.”

          “I’d like everything in writing,” Jungkook says slowly, grabbing a few pieces of meat out of a box while watching Seokjin do the same. The man only nods.

          “Of course. We can negotiate pay and benefits and time off. Everything will be official and legal and clear. I expect you to ask questions. As many as you want.”

          “I can,” Jungkook starts before correcting himself wisely, “I will do my best.”

          “You always have,” Seokjin says, smiling up at him before taking a bite. Jungkook follows him, chewing quietly while trying to remember everything that he wanted to talk to the man about, as his offer had thrown him off so easily. “Why did you come in today, by the way? It was to see me?”

          “Yeah,” Jungkook nods, swallowing unnecessarily. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. And I know I have a lot to work on. But. I wanted. I liked working for you, sir—Seokjin. I’m not fit to sit around and do nothing. I need the structure and routine. And, I think, if we go about it differently this time, it could go really well. Better than last time.”

          “I agree,” Seokjin says, nodding as well as he reaches for another bite.

          “And. And I wanted to discuss Y/N.” Jungkook waits, watching as Seokjin continues eating. Eventually the man looks up at him, as if expecting him to continue. “She’s fine, sir, as long as I know. She’s going to her classes, but she still isn’t talking. And. I miss her,” he rushes out, already embarrassed. “And I thought about it a lot, and I want to come work for you, but I’d rather have her. Not that I can have her, really, but—”

          “You’ve been going to her classes still?” Seokjin asks, and Jungkook nods. “But not talking to her?” A headshake. “I see. Well, she’s been staying with Wonwoo’s aunt and working in her restaurant for a while now,” Seokjin tells him, setting his utensils down to stare across the table.

          “Wha—oh,” Jungkook says, realizing how foolish he has been. Of course the girl was talking to Seokjin. Had probably gone back to him quickly. He was the one who had saved her, after all, had protected her. Jungkook only had because he was told to. At least, initially. At least, that’s probably what she still thinks.

          “Old habits die hard,” Seokjin says, “as do loyalties, it seems. Wonwoo has been keeping me updated even though I didn’t ask him to. It makes me a little uneasy, him doing so, like it’s an invasion of her privacy. But I also felt uneasy not knowing, if that makes any sense.”

          “Oh,” Jungkook mutters, feeling totally idiotic now. Of course the girl wasn’t talking to Seokjin. He had kept secrets, dangerous secrets from her. He had scared her and let her go without trying to persuade her to stay.

          “Why do you feel like you can’t have both?” Seokjin says suddenly, making Jungkook sit in silence, not for the first time since they started talking and probably not the last, as he tries to rush through his thoughts to find an answer.

          “I just mean,” he finally settles on, “that I couldn’t work for you if you and she were together. I know now that I am not strong enough to handle that. I want to be with her. If she’ll have me. And I want to work for you. But if I can’t have both, I’d rather have her.”

          “I see,” Seokjin says, leaning back from the table on his hands. The look he gives Jungkook is one he’s seen before, and he looks away like he’s used to before looking back, trying not to look as intimidated as he feels. “Well, like I said before, it’s whatever she wants. And what you want.”

          “But you don’t? Don’t you?” Jungkook struggles trying to find the right words, but Seokjin thankfully doesn’t tease him about it.

          “I feel a great need to protect and care for her, as I do for you, too,” Seokjin says simply, and Jungkook would be surprised or confused if he didn’t understand what the man meant. “Even in the short time she was around, I grew to love her in my own way. I’m sure it’s not how you think of her. I don’t need her to be my girlfriend, for instance, though you might. I wouldn’t mind sharing her, though you know that’s not how I mean it, though I think you might not like that. I have, and will never, though, get any sort of enjoyment out of someone doing something for me or with me because they feel forced to. I miss her, really, but I do not think as much as you do. I don’t want—I know—I am not ready for a relationship like you might be,” Seokjin sighs, looking out his window. “Old habits die hard, and I don’t think I can give Y/N what she needs right now.” Jungkook sits, trying to process everything while Seokjin obviously thinks, too. “But who knows what she needs,” Seokjin finally ends with, picking his utensils back up to keep eating even though the food is almost cold.

          “I’m not sure what to do, then,” Jungkook says after a moment, sighing.

          “Stick around for a bit if you can. I’ll have Yoongi bring in some paper work for us to go over. If not, then we can schedule a day for you to come back.”

          “No, I, no. I’m free,” Jungkook says, and Seokjin nods.

          “And then I’d suggest talking to Y/N. It’s what Jimin told me to do, and while he’s right most of the time, I think he’s wrong in this case. Like I said, I don’t think I’m ready. But you should talk to her.” Jungkook looks over at his boss—Seokjin—his soon-to-be-new-boss-again, trying to see if the man is lying. He doesn’t expect he would be able to tell, because even after working for him for two years he usually couldn’t. The man still looks tired, though not as exhausted as when he had last seen him. He seems worried, and Jungkook looks around the office, thinking about how many responsibilities he must have as a CEO. He thinks that the burdens must be enough to keep the man busy. Might be too many for him to carry alone. But he has Namjoon, and Yoongi, and the others. And Jungkook can help again. He’ll do whatever he can, within the boundaries they set together, to help the man he still respects and wants to please. Part of him leaves the building hours later feeling relieved, like he accomplished what he went in to do. But part of him is still confused and unsure. The semester is almost over, and he knows he only has a few more opportunities to talk to Y/N. But he waits until the last week of classes, because there is still a part of him that is waiting patiently for you to speak to him. But he has waited so long, he is afraid he will wait forever to never hear you again. And that is a silence he knows he can’t endure.

 

          Wonwoo, much to his excitement, is soon changed from Grumpy? to simply Wonwoo in your phone. The boy is still moody sometimes, but overall you find him to be quite hilarious and full of surprisingly deep moments. He is also much more helpful than he would like to admit. All of his good qualities seemed to have come from his aunt, who is the human embodiment of nurturing, and while Wonwoo was right about not being able to understand a word she says, her smiles and pats and constant placement of food in front of you is enough to know she cares simply because she cares. Her letting you come and work in her kitchen even if it was just washing dishes until you showed your worth some other way is done out of the kindness of her heart. Wonwoo doesn’t expect anything in return, either, and it is that that made you think about Seokjin and Jungkook day after day. Seokjin, who had bought you but expected nothing until you were ready, and Jungkook, who kept showing up to class despite your continual avoidance of him. They were humans, so you knew they expected something, as everyone does, and yet they had both always been careful enough to take care of you, first. You let yourself practice something similar, then, for the next two months, taking care of yourself first and only. Part of you felt bad, like you weren’t giving enough back to everyone around you, but Wonwoo just kept shrugging his shoulders when you shared your concern, and you finally decided he was right. You were obligated to no one and under no pressure to do anything you hadn’t set before yourself. So you concentrated on your school and help around the restaurant when you could as best as you could and made time to eat lunch with Wonwoo and sometimes Seungkwan simply because you enjoyed their company.

          But you kept thinking about Seokjin and Jungkook. It was hard not to, as Jungkook kept showing up in class. Even if in the past couple of weeks he wasn’t staring at you anymore and looked like he was finally sleeping again, he was still just there, a presence that you, when you finally allowed yourself to, realized you were comforted by. Where once you had felt annoyance and like he was assuming you needed his help and protection, now you only felt peace and gratitude, even if you still never spoke. And Wonwoo would, regardless of what you were actually talking about, always bring up Seokjin. You never asked, but you also never asked him to not tell you, so Wonwoo would ramble away about Seokjin and his business. You couldn’t follow most of it, but you knew it was all about his work as a CEO in the entertainment business, nothing illegal or dangerous. Wonwoo wasn’t as sly as he thought he was, either, because you knew what he was doing when he tried to casually drop hints about how Seokjin was personally. How he looked sad and tired and distant. The one positive update Wonwoo seemed to have was when he announced, without even scowling or sounding annoyed, that Jungkook had come back to work. It was good to have an explanation for why the boy had started looking better in November.

          “He’s still coming to your classes, right?” Wonwoo says one night when the restaurant is technically closed. You nod, enjoying a warm cup of tea as you pour over your notes from class. “Are you ever going to talk to him again?”

          “Maybe,” you shrug. “If he asks first.”

          “Huh,” Wonwoo says, clicking away on his phone enough for you to look up and throw a finger at him.

          “Don’t tell him that. He can figure it out on his own.”

          “As if I’d play messenger for Kookie,” Wonwoo scoffs even though you know he doesn’t hold any bitterness toward the boy anymore.

          “Yeah, mind your own business,” you say, going back to your notes.

          You really should have been paying more attention. Perhaps Wonwoo was slyer than you ever gave him credit for. Or he simply cared more than you ever could have expected even after all the time you had spent together.

 

          “Y/N is waiting for you to talk to her,” Wonwoo says, not even looking up from his phone as he leans against the wall by the elevator. Jungkook isn’t surprised there is a slight indention on the wall where the boy has worn the paint away with his heel.

          “What?” Jungkook says, his finger hovering by the elevator button to take him up to Seokjin’s for breakfast. Wonwoo doesn’t look up and only shrugs. Jungkook rolls his eyes and resists pushing the boy over, ignoring the grin Seungkwan has on his face.

          He’s been waiting for you to initiate conversation with him, and part of him wants to prove Wonwoo wrong, to walk up to you and have you reject him because Wonwoo is still out to get him. And yet he knows, based on what Seokjin’s told him and from the small changes he’s seen in Wonwoo, that the boy has gotten close to her, and it’s feasible that he’s telling the truth, even though Jungkook doesn’t understand why the boy would tell him of all people.

          He’s not sure, then, since there’s not a clear flowchart in his head to help dictate his decisions, why he approaches you at the end of Dr. Klein’s class. It’s the last class of the semester in his class before their final, an excessively long paper Jungkook is glad he doesn’t have to write and feels sympathy for how long you will have to be up writing it over the next week, and Jungkook knows it’s your favorite class, so he is hoping you will be in a good mood. You are smiling as you gather your things, even if only faintly, and he slings his backpack that is more of a prop than anything functional and hops over to you, trying not to tumble into a desk and scare you too much.

          “Hi,” Jungkook says, probably sounding as awkward as he feels as you look up him, your brows furrowed. “I’m Jungkook. I wanted to introduce myself so I wasn’t just ‘creepy guy who stares at me a lot.’ Sorry about that, by the way. You just really remind me of someone I knew once.” You raise your eyebrows at that at least, and Jungkook tries not to smile. “It was from another life. So, it’s nice to officially meet you—” he trails off, waiting for you to introduce yourself, but you only blink at him for a moment before maneuvering your phone in your hands so you don’t drop you notebook and passing it over for him to see.

_Y/N._

          “Oh, cool,” Jungkook says, handing it back politely and trying not to sink to the floor with his heart over the fact that you couldn’t just tell him out loud. “I, uh, don’t want to be rude, but can you talk? Are you deaf?” Jungkook knows it’s a stupid question, but you shake your head and almost smile, so he nods ecstatically. “Cool, just don’t want to talk to me. I get it. That’s fine. Maybe I could give you my number in case you ever want to, though? Texting works. Maybe we could meet up to discuss the final?” Jungkook wills himself to meet your gaze, though it’s unnerving how much he can’t read it. You blink at him a few times before handing your phone back to him, and he makes a little humming noise as he types away on it.

          “Oh, weird,” he says after a few seconds, “I’m already in your phone. Huh.” He hands it back, unable to hide a grin, and his heart does not summersault when you smile briefly back. Even if you’re just laughing at him, he can’t complain. “Okay, well, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He waves and turns away quickly, afraid of lingering and acting weirder than he knows he already is. You watch him walk away, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

 

          Jungkook makes it easy on you, as you knew he would, and you promise to come have dinner with him once finals are over. He spends the next week texting you excessively, even when you only reply when you have time to take a break. He comes by the restaurant with Wonwoo at night which almost gives you a heart attack and talks as if everything is normal, even kicking Wonwoo under the table when the boy starts teasing too much. He brings you food without waiting for permission and wishes you well. Multiple times you open your mouth to thank him, but instead you’re only able to smile. It is fine to pretend, but it can only be temporary. You will have to talk to him eventually if you want to continue seeing him. Which you do. You miss Seokjin, too, you know, and listen closer when Wonwoo and even Jungkook mention him. You work tirelessly to finish your papers on time, the days counting down for the end of the semester but also for something bigger. You’ve spent a lot of time over the past couple of months researching Kim Seokjin and his company and his family in your spare time, and while you don’t know the details, and there could be plenty of reasons behind why only articles about how generous the family is seem to appear in the newspapers, the stories can’t be totally made up. Your shock at finally hearing and accepting what Seokjin did for a living has worn off. Your anger toward him and Jungkook has died away, too. With each page you write you feel closer to freedom not only from school but also from the fear that has kept you back from simply moving on with your life. Of making the decision you want to make.

          So you can’t help but feel relieved and grateful and excited but also terrified and nervous and worried when you ask Jungkook if Seokjin can come to dinner, too, and the boy readily and easily and whole-heartedly agrees.

          In the end, you’re not sure why you were ever worried. You knew, the first moment you had met Seokjin, the way that he had looked at you, and the first time you had met Jungkook, the way he had touched you, that you had nothing to fear. That the only thing both of them felt for you was love, even if it manifested itself differently toward you from each of them, even if you would have to figure out what it looked like to reciprocate it back to them individually.

          “Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to my boss, Kim Seokjin,” Jungkook says, gesturing toward the tall man in front of you. You can’t help but smile at the entire situation. For one, you feel relieved by the idea of starting over, of pretending like everything is a clean slate. Your finals are over, and you feel like you can breathe again, even more so as Jungkook takes your hand. Jungkook’s overall sweetness, too, and his obvious ease, plus an excitement and eagerness to everything he does that you hadn’t noticed before, is infectious. And Seokjin is has handsome as you remember him being, plus the smile he gives you makes you melt just a little, but you hang onto Jungkook’s hand even as you put your other one out to Seokjin.

          “Pleasure to meet you,” Seokjin says, causing you to smile but also duck your head a little.

          “Y/N has a condition called temporary muteness,” Jungkook says, “but once she gets to know you and trusts you, she’ll be comfortable talking with you. Did I get that right, Y/N?”

          “Yeah,” you say, laughing lightly, feeling your cheeks blush at the way Seokjin is looking at you. He looks like he’s about to say something, but he closes his mouth, only to smile again. Jungkook is looking at you, too, with a look you’ve know now is one of patience and longing and fondness and love all rolled into one.

          “And I hope it happens soon,” he says, staring at you with a huge grin, “because her voice is beautiful. You should hear her laugh, Jin, and sing. It’s beautiful.”

          “Yeah, she is,” Seokin says, finally gesturing the two of you toward the table. He places a hand on your lower back easily, and you breathe freely, remembering the feeling of being anchored between the two of them. Whatever the night holds, whatever the next week brings, whatever the three of you end up becoming, you know you’re going to be safe and protected and comfortable and free. “Well, little one,” Seokjin says with one more smile, “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, ending stories is so hard. I’m always a little sad but also really proud.  
> Jimin backstory: In short, Jimin used to be a prostitute and was badly injured one night when Tae happened to be at the club. He took him home to Seokjin, and the rest is history.
> 
> Tae backstory: Tae, when he was younger, accidentally killed a man threatening his father. He caused him a lot of trauma that he went to therapy for. Seokjin mentions him and Jimin being different from Y/N in dealing with their tragedies. Jimin was never quiet, Y/N was, Tae became explosive. He has always been the more violent brother, arguably because of what happened to him when he was a teen. Sorry to Tae for not exploring him more in this story. But it wasn’t his story, in the end, so there we go.
> 
> The more I write Jungkook, the more I love him!
> 
> I know some people really wanted that Poly relationship! When I started the story, my end game was actually Reader+Jungkook. I knew Seokjin would be in there, but I wasn’t ever able to imagine Jungkook being okay with it. The more I went, the more I realized there was this weird dynamic between Seokjin and Jungkook that wasn’t healthy that they both at least realize by the end. In short, all three characters have more healing to do. They’ve had their time alone to think and stew and contemplate and consider, and they’ve all come back to each other. They’ll all be in each others’ lives, whatever that might look like in the end. And I think that’s happy :)
> 
> As always, I’m here if you have any questions. Take care of yourselves!
> 
> Please don't yell at me on [Tumblr](https://54daysormore.tumblr.com/), but do come say hi! There are lots of questions I've answered there, plus my Masterlist. Note that all questions include SPOILERS. I'm also on Twitter @54daysormore


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